


Sacrifice Reality

by Seraphzerox



Series: Sacrifice Reality [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Depression, Drama, Drug Use, F/F, Gen, Post-Save Chloe Price Ending, Recreational Drug Use, Sequel, Slice of Life, Supernatural Elements, Time Anomalies, Time Travel, Tragic Romance, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-09-02 18:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 104,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16792663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphzerox/pseuds/Seraphzerox
Summary: Peace and tranquility is all Max had hoped for after escaping Arcadia Bay with Chloe. Instead, lost time and looming threats have thrown her into a deadly game of people with powers just like her own, along with a haunting ghost from Chloe’s past. As Max tries to live life despite another ominous time traveler attempting to change the world, she must confront bitter decisions: will she be a hero, will she do what is necessary to save everyone, or will she simply be Max Caulfield?3rd Person Limited with Max, Chloe and other POV-chapters.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> You do not need to read Days Beyond to understand Sacrifice Reality, although I recommend doing so. Be forewarned, the first story relies heavily on original character development in the first quarter.
> 
> I'm posting the Prologue today but Intend to begin uploading every Saturday from hereon out. I hope you enjoy, and please tell me what you think in the comments!

**** ****

#  [Artist: @Lizoness](https://www.instagram.com/lizoness/)

#  **Prologue**

**_Tuesday, March 15_ ** **_th_ ** **_2016, 5:55AM_ **

“What a waste of talent.”

That had been the second time somebody had said that to her. The first time had been in the middle of what Max Caulfield had thought of, at the time, as a fate worse than most. In the clutches of photographer-turned-murderer Mark Jefferson, one of the last things he had ever said to her—in one reality, at least—had been those exact words. The second time she had heard that exact same sentence, it was when she had been aiding a blonde-haired detective taking down the crazy old man living in the ruins of Arcadia Bay. Somebody beyond the normal, somebody like her, but much, _much more_ powerful, had uttered that phrase to her: The Yatagarasu. _Or, as Chloe prefers, “Time Prick”._

As if seeing faces of the dead from Arcadia Bay every time she slept wasn’t enough torture, this phantom that had reached across realities to contact her, this _entity_ that had been able to convince Hugh Olhouser to squat in the destroyed town, ambush three innocent people, and had attempted to kill Max wouldn’t leave her alone. The events of that week last March continued to haunt her. Even as she rolled around on the uncomfortable mattress, tugging some of the sheets to wrap around herself, she would never forget that day just as she would never forget that her hometown had been eradicated by an event that remained unexplained by conventional science. _An act of God is what some people have called it._

Only, Max didn’t know whether there could exist a God so cruel. In this instance, the ‘act of God’ had been committed by Max with absolute certitude in an exchange with the universe. Reaching around the bed in the dark, her hand found purchase on the shoulder of the girl sharing the bed with her. Max ran her hand lightly across the strawberry blonde’s unconscious arm until she found Chloe’s own unclenched hand. That cosmic exchange, in which Max had traded Arcadia Bay, had been to keep Chloe alive. It was a decision that, no matter how much it haunted her, was one she would never undo. Nothing and nobody was going to take Chloe away from her.

Unfortunately, Chloe’s presence next to her wasn’t enough to clear her head. The nightlife outside of their window gave Max just enough light to make out the blurry shapes in the room. Honestly, it was preferable to slamming her eyes shut and going back to sleep because all she could do tonight was remember everything. Normally, Max could deal with these pervasive thoughts when she applied some rationality and science to it, though the proper word would be pseudoscience. _Because there’s no way I can actually quantify this crap, this is all I have._ She clutched Chloe’s hand tighter until the girl’s fingers laced themselves between hers.

Chaos Theory dictated that any one action could have an unexpected reaction, entropy in an ordered system. Such events become chaotic, like the butterfly effect. Then there was the Multiverse Theory, in which all of those memories Max carried of different timelines and lives she had lived in such a short span still existed. That would mean that in every one of them, there had been or was a Max just like her and that was a very bad thing given the circumstances surrounding some of those realities. It would also mean that there existed a reality in which Chloe had _actually_ been killed by an unhinged classmate and the massive freak tornado that had destroyed Arcadia Bay in this one had never come to fruition there. The Max of that timeline would have had to live with losing a woman who the universe had hated so much that it demanded an end to her existence. In this timeline, where Max and Chloe were snuggled up together in Los Angeles and voices in her head were a constant reminder of the monstrous decision she had made, something much worse was coming.

“No matter what reality, you’re always the thorn in my side.”

Max couldn’t stop the tremor in her body as she suddenly grew colder, wrapping the thin sheets closer around her body. The Yatagarasu had to be a time traveler just like her; a time traveler with a grand, malevolent scheme that had involved her death. Max still couldn’t believe that her short time suspended beyond the real world where she had been forced to confront this demon sometimes outweighed her nightmarish memories regarding the tornado. Even as she angled herself closer to Chloe, taking in her scent as she rested her cheek on the pillow to gaze upon her girlfriend’s darkened face, Max couldn’t dispel image of the Yatagarasu invading her mind: an ebony mask that was held in place by cloth wrapped around his head, and the large hooded jacket. This was how he—and _that_ was only a guess, given the broad shoulders—had presented himself to her, as ghosts of the people she had inadvertently condemned to die in the storm had appeared right beside him. Everybody she could have imagined had been there, from random passersby on the street to Blackwell Academy students. She remembered Chloe’s mother, Joyce, staring in contempt next to Chloe’s paranoid stepfather, David. There had been somebody else summoned that still brought a slight shiver down her back. Even Mark Jefferson, who had been her former art teacher and kidnapper, the man who had drugged and restrained her in a torture room for at least a day couldn’t compete with the fear this person had instilled into Max. The shapes of Warren Graham, Victoria Chase, the custodian named Samuel—not one of them scared her the way a figure that Max had never seen in person before had. Of all the conjurations that the Yatagarasu could have manifested, Rachel Amber had been the most unexpected, and terrifying.

She had been present and _alive_ in front of Max, with her long blonde hair, fair skin, and the hazel eyes that had taken all of that conviction Max had away from her. Unlike the others, Rachel hadn’t perished in the Arcadia Bay storm, but rather at the hands of Jefferson half a year before Max had returned to her hometown. The week that Max had uncovered her unique talent of time travel, she and Chloe had uncovered the conspiracy surrounding Rachel’s death and the girl happened to be very important to Max’s lover even now, three years after her murder. The Rachel that Max had been subjected to in that surreality alongside the masked phantom had not been this amazing, fantastical woman that Chloe had built her up to be in Max’s mind. This Rachel had piercing eyes that had caused Max to feel like she had been a wound in the universe. In truth, there was no rhyme or reason why the real Rachel would have despised Max aside from potential conflicts of interest pertaining to their relationships with Chloe. _And the fact that she’s dead, Max._ Even if Chloe had convinced her it couldn’t have been real, Max remembered how scornful the woman had looked as she had gazed down at Max.

“So she’s the one? _This_ is Max Caulfield?”

Her nightmares had begun to mix together. Some nights she would awaken in a panicked sweat, unsure where she was or if she was in some other reality. Other nights she would just leave the bedroom, make herself a cup of coffee and curl up in the corner of their tiny living room to cry as quietly as she could without waking her soulmate. During the normal hours of work and productivity, Max could pretend to be the paragon of health. When she had something to focus her time on, whether it was making mochas for snooty metropolitanites or her freelance photography ops, everything was fine. Laying in bed like she had done over countless restless nights did nothing to stop all of these thoughts from bombarding her at once.

Max had stopped breathing at some point, feeling her body slowly stiffen without fresh oxygen. Her pulse increased, and she quickly rolled over so that she was completely pressed against her girlfriend’s side. Out of all of this absolute bullshit, there was Chloe Price. She loved this woman so much that it hurt Max to imagine a world where she hadn’t been reunited with her vixen. That being said, there had been many underlying issues between both girls that had taken devotion and effort to work on. Having to jump back through multiple realities, even over the span of several years, had meant that Max had to adjust to the fact that she would have to live with a younger, less mature version of her girlfriend.

A lot had changed between them from this year to twenty-eighteen, the year everything had gone to shit in first timeline— _No, you idiot. You don’t even remember what the first timeline is anymore._ She shook her head, clearly thinking way too hard on shit in the darkness of their bedroom. Even though there was a layer of sheets between them, at least Max had her. Making out the time on the nightstand beyond Chloe’s peaceful face, Max read that it was nearly six-thirty in the morning. _I guess I’m not getting any more sleep tonight._ _I can’t stand this feeling of helplessness. I thought having these powers would give me some resolve beyond all the scary stuff but all it’s ever done is made me miserable._ She focused on her girlfriend’s face instead of the clock, her cheeks absolutely kissable. _So do it then, dumbass. Do it while she can’t kiss you back._

Max leaned in, closing her eyes and instead of having the courage to plant a kiss, she nuzzled and sighed against Chloe’s neck. For whatever stupid reason, she felt shy even as she slept with the woman who had been her partner for four years—technically five now, counting what had happened in the destroyed city last year. During that incident, Max had been forced to rewind a whole three years to put a stop to the Yatagarasu’s plot in which an innocent young man named Connor had been the target. Connor’s meltdown and subsequent death would have triggered a global catastrophe beyond anything fixable outside the realm of science fiction. As the negativity crawled back into her thoughts, she winced when the covers shifted. The adorably sleepy Chloe had rolled onto her side, her hands mindlessly finding a home on Max’s hips. Even with the sheets separating Chloe’s wandering hands from her bare midriff, they gave the brunette a chill. Max couldn’t help but press herself against Chloe’s body, as her lover’s arms wrapped around her exposed lower back and then slowly up towards her shoulder blades.

Although her hands were clumsy, Max realized then that her wonderful girlfriend wasn’t as asleep as she had suspected. She recognized that Chloe had woken up plenty of times this past week to comfort her, many of those nights with her in tremendously worse shape than tonight, but that didn’t mean Max felt amazing that she routinely ruined Chloe’s much needed sleep. Chloe’s job as a supervisor was much more demanding, and it paid the excess bills that Max couldn’t manage even with her little side hustles. Although, the thought that Chloe had grown up in such a short time brought a tiny smirk to Max’s lips. It had only been three years and she was already working her way into managerial positions. That was on top of taking care of her extremely disturbed time traveling girlfriend. _Because Chloe isn’t a loser. Fuck everybody who ever doubted her potential._

“Max,” the waking Chloe muttered, as Max rested her cheek against the taller woman’s shoulder. “Trouble sleeping?”

“You’re a mind reader,” Max replied, lightly pressing her lips against Chloe’s exposed neck. The kiss went on longer than Max thought but in the moment it just felt right. Chloe’s response disagreed with her, as she arched her body and tightened her grip on Max. She pulled away, only for Chloe to guide her back to the vixen’s neck.

“Don’t do that,” Chloe moaned, with a voice clearly more awake this time. “You’re already working on getting me wet.” Max admired her dedication, especially so early in the morning when both of them had to feel gross and not at their prime. Max really didn’t enjoy morning sex.

“Chloe.” Max wiggled with the woman’s grip on the back of her head, catching the smirk on Chloe’s drowsy face as the taller woman held her tighter. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s six in the morning.”

“But babe, you just dropped a match into the gasoline,” replied Chloe in protest. She opened her eyes, staring suggestively into Max’s own. _Why did I kiss your sweet spot?_ Max’s heart raced, ready to explode out of her chest. She could only resist this devilish woman for so long while wrapped up in her hands. If Chloe pushed her harder or used the brunette’s real weaknesses against her, Max would be fall to her own desires. “We’ve still got a few hours before society steals us away. I’ve got some ideas that could ease your pretty little head.” Max certainly wanted to, and it took great strength to deny the temptation of Chloe’s seductress routine, even with the woman’s fingers working their way down Max’s back and digging underneath the sheets. Yeah, if she didn’t find the strength to speak up, she would be helpless to Chloe’s touch.

“As much as I want to after this shit week,” Max started, as Chloe’s barely visible smirk changed to a pouty curled lip and puppy-dog eyes along with her roaming hands stopping just above her bottom, “I actually wanted to sit down and talk about us. It’s been like, three months.” Chloe’s bedroom eyes and curled lip transformed to a noticeably attentive visage. It was probably for the best that Max killed the mood, because she had been seconds away from throwing off the sheets and giving in to Chloe’s touch. Considering that they had had some serious issues to resolve since they had gone back to Arcadia Bay, she had been trying to give as much consideration to both her partner and their well-beings as a whole. Max was better than before, but nobody was ever truly okay with the type of emotional baggage that she and Chloe both carried. They tried to have this sort of sit-down once a month but as of late, between jobs, Max’s upcoming surprise family visit in about a day, and remaining vigilant on anything pertaining to the Yatagarasu, the two women hadn’t spoken about their relationship for a while. Chloe knew how important that was, as she retracted her hands from Max’s bottom and sat up in the bed without question. After all, it had been a promise Max made to Chloe to tell her everything. This was just an extension of that promise. _I could always rewind and let Chloe have her way with me for an hour or two…_

Chloe’s hands fumbled in the dark, finding the blue-trimmed lampshade on her bedside nightstand and reaching inside of it. The luminosity was weak, but it gave Max her first proper view of Chloe Price for the morning: stunning as usual, even in her underwear, randomly selected band tee and greasy natural blonde hair. Chloe yawned and intertwined her hands as she raised them over her head, stretching. As she peered back at Max from her shoulder view, she scoffed. “This is why I couldn’t do Blackwell bros.” _I do miss her blue and purple hair._

“What do you mean?” Max asked with a smile, fully catching on that her girlfriend was still preening for her attention.

“Because I can tell you’re in love with me every time I catch you staring,” said Chloe, leaving Max uncomfortably warm in her face. “Now hurry up and put something on, girl. I love that bony ass, but you’ll freeze to death. I’ll get the coffee started.” Chloe stood up and moved toward their bedroom door, her shadow following at her heel against the blue wall. Max was slow to rise, looking down at the mess of clothes on their floor. She definitely needed to tend to her nakedness before Chloe’s warning came true. _Sleeping nude has been the only way I feel comfortable when I try to sleep lately. Even sleep aids aren’t helping._ It was easy to forget how cold she had been, especially considering Chloe’s hands had warmed her considerably. She tossed on the old Lord Huron shirt she hadn’t touched for some time and while Chloe left to prepare a fresh pot of coffee, she wandered out to the hallway to find the bathroom.

She stepped in front of the mirror, seeing the bags under her eyes and messy hair. _Has there been a day in the past year where I didn’t look exhausted?_ Max rubbed at her eyes, then turned on the faucet and splashed her face with water. One thing that Max had also gone a while without was eye shadow. She just found little reason to work that hard on her appearance as of late, it was too much effort. She’d need a proper shower to feel really refreshed, but Chloe and their talk came first. Ever since Arcadia Bay, Max made sure Chloe came first no matter what.

Realizing that she had left her phone on the charger next to the bed, Max made her way back towards their bedroom. She could already smell the brew from the kitchen, bringing the fond memory of almond flavor to mind. She’d be able to enjoy a sip or ten as soon as she was ready to join Chloe. Max walked past the pile of dirty clothes at the foot of their mattress, another menial task that they had been too busy to get a move on. _Jesus, mom and dad will be here in about a day and our apartment is a mess._ If she had to deal with another episode of her parents begging them to move back in with them in Seattle, she might have to use her powers to shift the subject.

She saw her phone laying flat on the second nightstand beside a framed picture from last spring. There was something sentimental about the image that urged her to find a case and display it next to the most intimate part of their home. In the picture, Max and Chloe were hanging out with those three people she had met in the ruins of their hometown. The three had been mere urban explorers when they had come across Arcadia Bay, but Connor had a destiny he would have never been able to guess. _Wowzers, I still can’t believe I can look at this picture and just feel happy. So much bullshit happened that week._ Connor Papworth, Hyram Auteberry, and Aubrey Snyders were some of the most interesting people Max had been around since her journey had begun and just as she had suspected, one of her notifications came from Connor.

_4:45PM Atmo-Man_

_You know this job wouldn’t be so shitty if people just realized im a private citizen too. Im a person doing a job here, not a cop_

_5:01PM Max_

_The struggle of mall fucks everywhere. ಥ_ಥ_

_5:05PM Atmo-Man_

_Do you have these fucking emojis in a notepad doc somewhere_

_5:06PM Max_

_Why would I do such a thing¯\\(°_o)/¯_

_5:15PM Atmo-Man_

_What emotion is that supposed to convey, exactly?_

_5:24PM Max_

_Bewilderment to your question_

_5:29PM Atmo-Man_

_Ok today’s getting kind of nuts I’ll hit you up when I’m not the only one doing shit at work_

_5:30PM Max_

_I won’t go anywhere_

_3:05AM Atmo-Man_

_I don’t know how you manage to hold together, Max. I feel so isolated from everyone right now. I’m not getting anywhere with life and I have to worry about these fucking powers any time I get upset. I wish you guys all lived around the corner or some shit. Also, I know you said that late night texts were reserved for Chloe, but Aubrey and Hyram just don’t get it. The way you described everything… I feel like you’re the only person who can give advice on this stuff. Sorry in advance if I sound like a clingy doofus._

She had agreed to help Connor with his powers, but as of late the young man had grown far more depressed. His messages had also become seriously dreary, often venting to Max in ways that left her confused on how to reply. It was too early in the morning and she had Chloe to worry about but if she didn’t get back to Connor, Max would feel like a shitty friend. Max also questioned the notion that he found her qualified to give advice on, frankly, anything. She was definitely not the person to talk to about depression, as her own was unpredictable and even with the occasional therapy or destressing, Max would never be healthy.

_6:40AM Max_

_I read it. I’ll get back to you, promise. Please remember that you have a lot of people who care about you._

“I could be doing so much better with Connor,” Max whispered to herself, mentally recounting the number of times she had told him she’d get back to him and then failed to do such _. If he doesn’t believe me this time, I wouldn’t blame him. God, what the hell am I doing?_ She had her own problems and her own life, which was just as shitty. She knew he likely didn’t blame her, but she could absolutely be doing better. She had had nobody there to guide her once she had been thrusted into the life of a time traveler, and she didn’t want Connor to suffer the same way she had. _Which is why I need to take care of myself better, too. Isolating myself from everyone but Chloe and Tobias isn’t good._ Speaking of Tobias, a fantastic coworker she had befriended at the cafe, he had sent her an entire message filled with emojis that she would have to save later. Tobias was quirky, probably quirkier than her, and such a good listener to the point that Chloe had grown slightly jealous over the amount of time Max spent venting to him.

“Hey, Max. You awake yet?” Chloe called from the kitchen. “I’m getting insatiable the longer I stare at this pot.”

“You better not pour a cup without me!” Max replied in a voice just under a yell. It was nearly seven in the morning now and they had neighbors including a nosy old woman who loved to snitch to the management about every little thing. She took her phone with her and, seeing Chloe’s shadow stretching from the kitchen across their couch and TV, united with her girlfriend in the kitchen. Chloe was bent over the counter, inspecting their brew. She took notice of Max leaning against the refrigerator, and as the strawberry blonde winked, she once again arched her body to show her ass off to taunt Max yet again.

“You’re a fucking punk,” Max teased her. “You always wanna rile me up when I need to be serious.”

“You’re only now realizing I’m a punk?” Chloe asked as she let go of the spoon and reached up to pull out two mugs from their cabinet. “That’s not the word you called me yesterday night.”

Max smiled at the recollection of their private time the day before. “Yesterday wasn’t six in the morning,” Max said. “You’re really stuck on this, huh?”

“Just messing with you, love,” Chloe replied as she poured the hot coffee into the blue mug first, and then the red mug. Max fucking _adored_ when Chloe occasionally referred to her as love and it almost distracted her from grabbing the proper mug. _Red, of course. Blue is Chloe’s color._ “Coffee’s all ready to warm you up. I kicked the AC down some.” The punk placed the pot back onto the coffee machine, taking her mug to the wooden table adjacent to the kitchen and upon sitting down, she rested her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. “You said you wanted to talk about us?”

Normally, that would’ve spiked Max’s anxiety, to hear a loved one say such a thing. This time, though, Max knew precisely what Chloe had meant and that was such a relief. Max grabbed her red mug and sat at the opposite side of the table, watching Chloe’s brows rise in some exaggerated anticipation for her to talk. Max took a tiny sip from her mug, the extremely hot almond coffee hitting her tongue and then the back of her throat. Letting out a sigh, Max was ready.

“So,” Max said, pausing without meaning to as she watched Chloe’s smug expression harden into one of seriousness. “It’s been a little over a year since I jumped back in time.”

“That it has, my little time traveler,” Chloe said.

“We had a lot of unresolved problems to deal with… like shutting you and everyone out.”

“You were telling lies of omission,” Chloe reminded her calmly. “But that’s been done with, Max. You came clean about everything that happened.”

“That didn’t make my problems go away though, obviously,” Max told her, deeply breathing in. “I’m glad you handled the whole maturity talk well, last time we sat down and did this.” Yes, Max had spent four years with a Chloe that had matured and hardened much more than her current. Even if Max wasn’t going to delve that deep into specifics, the Chloe at the other side of the table was still very much a spitfire and a rebellious youth in spirit. Of course, nobody said she needed to lose that side of her. “I wanted to ask what you think right now. It’s been a few months since I got to ask you.”

“Max,” Chloe laughed quietly, the smile growing wider on her face. “You’re the most amazing thing I have ever had. Ever since we made that promise, we haven’t kept anything from each other. We get on each other’s asses whenever it happens. You’ve been helping me so much with my anger issues. I guess that comes from living with another version of me for four years, right?”

“It wasn’t another you,” Max declared. “It was still you. And yes, that did help, but who can blame either of us for being angry at life? This isn’t how either of us thought we’d end up.” _Talk about a fucking understatement._ Chloe had lost her dad, had dealt with Max having to move away for four years, and then Rachel’s murder proceeded by the tornado.

“But it’s the best we can do, Max,” Chloe said, locking eyes with the brunette. “You’re doing the best you can do, I’m doing the best I can do, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Max hesitated to say the first thing that came to mind. “You know I wouldn’t.” Chloe seemingly understood, as a tinge of sadness appeared in the way she smiled. She knew Max occasionally struggled with the responsibility of that freak storm and then again with Connor and the whole ordeal last spring. Chloe herself had worked out the survivor’s guilt she carried over Arcadia Bay, although Max often thought it wasn’t that hard considering the emotional shield Chloe had built prior to Max’s arrival at Blackwell Academy. The good thing in particular about it was that Chloe had no problem talking about her shell or the rare days where Max had to comfort Chloe instead. Her punk was so emotionally strong, and she couldn’t ask for a better guardian angel.

“So what’s on your mind then?” Chloe asked quickly, a spark of excitement evident.

“I dunno exactly, a lot,” Max said, rubbing the side of her head. “My mom and dad are going to take us out to dinner probably, and they’re going to see this place and worry about us. I’ve been worrying about your birthday and if—”

“Thank you again,” Chloe told her. “Really. You were fucking amazing, as always. Really loved that night.” It had been a romantic night of candles, a movie, some really fancy cooking that Max had been practicing for some time. Her rewind ability had come in handy for that dinner, since the initial cooking had been quite a blunder. Thankfully, that had only come off a light joke that Chloe hadn’t taken seriously when she told her about it.

“Connor’s really sad and I feel like I’m not the greatest person to help him with depression. Aubrey’s still getting over the news from her town, you know. And then there’s simply,” Max looked for the root of all her worry, settling on the image of that phantom from her nightmares. “The Yatag—”

“Time Prick, yeah.” Chloe broke eye contact with Max, staring across the room to the kitchen. “We haven’t heard anything since last March. The craziest thing that’s happened is the political state of the country.”

“I warned you,” Max reminded her that she had seen this happen once already in another timeline. “But it just proves that life can still be just as unpredictable.”

“Or it’s caused by another time traveler fucking up the spacetime universe or some shit, whatever you call it,” Chloe said, her eyes returning to Max. “I get why you’re still worried, Max. I am too, but Connor’s been safe and nobody’s tried to kill you.”

“How long will that last?” asked Max, as Chloe leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. “I can’t rewind if I’m dead.” She saw the graveness of her statement rattle the strawberry blonde seated opposite from her, but the meaning behind it was a true concern for Max. She was the only person who could fix things when it came down to it, and if she was out of the picture, the world was fucked until they stopped Time Prick.

“You aren’t going to fucking die,” Chloe replied sharply. “You aren’t. I’m not letting that asshole within ten feet of you, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Chloe,” Max assured her. “Maybe it’s time we checked in with Kris, at least.” Kristine Prescott was, out of all the people that Max had never expected help from, at the top of that list. The Prescotts had practically owned their home town with money and corruption, but they had all, except for Kristine and her father, died in the freak storm. Her father had disappeared, which was a segue into the topic at hand. Unlike the Prescott family, Kristine was not a scheming, awful person but a rather compassionate one. Despite being the sole heir to the Prescott fortune, somebody had stolen it before she had even realized her father had gone missing. Kristine had sent two detectives on an investigation that connected the Prescott wealth to the Yatagarasu’s coffers. Another interesting thing that Max kept in mind was that Kristine might know that she wasn’t normal. The two detectives had figured out that Max had some sort of special ability and nothing had come of it yet. That alone gave Max reason to trust them, though not quite with her life.

“You’re the one who wanted to stay in touch with her.” Chloe closed her eyes, resting the back of her head on the chair. “If she hasn’t bothered us in half a year, that must be a good sign.”

“You sure? What if something happened to her?” Max asked in response. “It’s not like I’ve tried to reach out. I wanted to bring that up with you first.”

“Why?” asked Chloe. “Two shitty detectives and a Prescott wanted to keep an eye on you and Connor, and you both agreed to it. I’m not really big into surveillance, you know that.”

“You agreed to it, too!” Max shouted, though trying to keep her tone friendly. The last thing she wanted out of this was an argument. “Kris was looking out for us. We wouldn’t have been able to pay off those medical bills without her help.”

“I know, I know,” Chloe grumbled, putting up a hand to stop Max from further objection. “It’s not _her_ I distrust.” Chloe had every right to be wary of Ms. Prescott’s dubious henchmen who had pursued them for a few days out of suspicion that Max and Connor were actually the Yatagarasu, but those two hadn’t contacted them in twice as long. Most correspondence had been straight through a phone call with Kris and even then had usually been a very informal conversations checking in on Max and letting her know pertinent information on the investigation.

“But you know that Kris isn’t like that.” As long as Kristine Prescott was kept in the dark about Max and Chloe’s old relationship with her deceased brother Nathan, she would probably continue the friendly dialogue. The problem was still, as Chloe had mentioned, that Max hadn’t heard from Kristine in over half a year. “My nightmares have been getting really bad again.”

“Oh,” Chloe responded, leaning against the table again. She proffered her hand for Max to take. Without wasting a second, Max offered hers and they both held onto each other by the wrist. “You should have started with that, Max. Is that why you want to call?”

“Yes,” Max said, feeling a lump in her throat. “It’s been hard to ignore. I’m getting seriously worried about the future.”

“Same,” Chloe said, nodding as she spoke. “Max, you don’t need to ask my permission to call her. I wouldn’t have been angry at you for doing it.”

“Thanks for reassuring me,” Max said. “I wish I was perfect enough not to need that.”

“We all need reassurance, sweetheart. Are you forgetting how glued to your fucking hip I was after the town went nuclear?” Chloe chuckled loudly. “Jesus Christ, how did you stand me? Daddy issues were acting out big time.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad. Having you snuggle up with me in the truck after it broke down on the way to Seattle was dreamy.” It had also been a welcoming moment after such a heavy decision, and that had been the first real moment after realizing their feelings for each other that they had had intimacy.

“Yeah, well I remember it differently.” Chloe’s smirk returned, as arrogant as ever. “Don’t think my memory sucks, but I’m pretty sure I was the one who made the first move.”

“Except when it came to kissing you,” Max retorted.

“Which times?” Chloe teased. “The dare or in your family’s backyard?”

“Both of those I had to fucking grab and pull you in,” Max remarked. “You said you weren’t gonna be a sappy romantic either, and now look at you.”

“Well first of all,” Chloe held up her left hand, showing off the metallic ring on her ring finger. “You’re the helpless romantic who committed to promise rings. I’m still not very mushy,” Chloe told her endearingly, pushing the seat back towards the wall and propping her bare feet on the table. Settling into her new position, she crossed one ankle over the other and put her hands behind her head. “I mean, look at my table manners. I don’t know how you take me anywhere.”

“God, Chloe. I’ve _mostly_ trained you well,” Max shot, shaking her head at her playfully rambunctious girlfriend. Her own promise ring was part of a necklace she kept in the nightstand on her side of the bed, and she often slipped it around her neck before leaving the apartment. In truth, she hadn’t been wearing it as much as she probably should have but her lover knew how much it meant to her, no matter what. Chloe Price was hers forever and always. “You’re not housebroken yet, it looks like.”

“Yeah?” Chloe stared up at the dimly-lit ceiling. “I’ll start behaving when you start dressing the part.”

“What part?” inquired Max incredulously.

“I vowed to turn you into my apprentice? Duh! It’s been almost three years and I got you into it for like a week!” Chloe jested with Max about the mosh attire she had helped the brunette pick out. Max had grown fond of the darker, scene apparel that her girlfriend had pointed her to, but it had been a while since Max found an appropriate time to wear it outside of the apartment.

“Honey, it’s not that I’m not into it,” Max promised her. “It’s simply our job requirements and photo ops. I have to be professional, I can’t dress for fun.”

“I’d hire you in a heartbeat if you rocked that black tank top you got in San Fran,” Chloe said.

“Well sadly, the kind of people who want to hire me are of a different cloth. Besides, I think _your_ work uniform looks pretty fly on you.”

Chloe made a sound of disgust. “No, it doesn’t. I’m so glad you reminded me of that.” Chloe removed her feet from the table and started chugging on her coffee mug until Max raised a hand of concern. Chloe stopped, resting the mug back on the table. Max snickered, holding that hand to her lips as she noticed the coffee all over Chloe’s chin. “You stop that now, Long Max Silver.”

“What am I supposed to call you now that you went all natural?” Max said about Chloe breaking with her tradition of trying every color hair imaginable. It had been a fair amount of time since she had stopped trying, partially for her job and partially to try something new. Her bleached tips were barely noticeable, but her natural blonde hair was just as gorgeous as every other shade of Chloe Price.

“Good question,” Chloe replied, putting a finger to her chin. “Before we figure that out, is there anything else you want to talk about? We kinda got derailed, didn’t we?”

“Thank you for being so patient with me, Chloe. I love you, and I don’t know how many partners would deal with all of this.” Max watched Chloe’s gaze soften into a lukewarm grin. “I’m a fucking mess and you are always the one to keep me above water while I feel like I’m drowning.”

“I’ll always love you, Max Caulfield.”

There was always a constant with Max’s life and that was Chloe Price. She had made the ultimate decision and chose Chloe’s life over the souls of Arcadia Bay. She had come back in time yet again to save Chloe’s life, and even once more last March when the Time Prick plot had started. Chloe liked to call Max her knightess in shining armor, but the truth was the exact opposite: without Chloe, Max would’ve ended up in a mental ward or suicidal. It didn’t matter that they were living in a shitty one bedroom apartment in one of the most expensive states in the country. They would save each other, over and over, day after day. This wasn’t a life Max would give up for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You touch my mind in special places  
> my heart races with you  
> You touch my mind in special places  
> my heart races with you  
> my heart races with you


	2. Mundane Triviality

#  **Chapter One: Mundane Triviality**

**_Wednesday, March 16_ ** **_th_ ** **_2016, 8:30AM_ **

Chloe found the break room a refreshing escape from the early Wednesday shopping atmosphere for a number of reasons. It was all too apparent that she suffered from sleep deprivation and a few coworkers had already asked about her slouched shoulders and zombie eyes. Even though her shift had started only half an hour ago and the store had only just opened, customers were everywhere. When shoppers arrive this early though, there were a few stereotypical traits Chloe could notice in all of them and it did not help her morning at all. They were predominantly senior citizens, most of them grumpy from all the usual quirks that old folk carry; stress, being awake, having to leave their home in eighty degree weather. Today was no different as those early shoppers had arrived in droves.

 _Exactly why I’m in desperate need of coffee._ Chloe thought about how empty the break room was, wondering if it was possible that she was simply having a bad start to the day. The Caulfields were in town for about a week and she needed to preserve enough energy to actually have fun later in the day but that wasn’t to say that Max’s family wasn’t fun. After all, Ryan reminded her a little bit of her own dad, though his jokes were more clever and less ‘dad-like’ in nature. _That’s fine by me. Nobody can really replace you, dad._ Vanessa, while being her mother-in-law only in spirit, was as much a mom to her as her real mom was. Days like these where Chloe had actual responsibility in her lap, she wished her mother was still around to talk. The workaholic might have had her bad qualities, but Chloe always remembered the times when Joyce had practically ran the Two Whales diner in their hometown by herself. Chloe reached up into the break room cabinet until she found the styrofoam cups hidden behind some of the plates. _As if anybody actually eats off of those things, gross._ The punk was not about to catch someone’s flu, so she preferred the disposable kitchenware. She set the cup onto the counter and then with her other hand, picked the coffee jug up to pour slowly into her cup. Coffee used to be Max’s thing but ever since Chloe had become a productive member of the workforce, she found the liquid an addiction far stronger than nicotine or cannabis. Although, Chloe remembered how awesome her mom’s coffee used to be when she brewed it fresh at the Two Whales and that was back when Chloe had been hesitant to drink the stuff.

Her reminiscing was interrupted as the door to the break room shot open. Judging from the loud and heavy footsteps accompanied by the strange feeling of eyes staring at her, she had a good guess as to who was joining her. The young man sighed, and Chloe knew then and there it was an employee she wasn’t fond of: Julius was, for a lack of better words to describe him, outspoken. When he didn’t have an opinion on something, it was so easy to tell that he was forming one. He also tried his luck with Chloe on numerous occasions to the point where she had begun to question whether he was intentionally rude to her or not. As she rubbernecked to look at him, his hazel eyes met her and a grumpy frown loosened to a neutral expression. He waved at her, acknowledging the strawberry blonde. She returned a brief greeting, hoping it would stop there. Of course, being a shift supervisor meant she had to lend an ear to any employee who needed help. Despite his aggravating tendencies, Julius had that luxury just like the other forty people Chloe regularly worked with.

“The coffee warm?” Julius asked as he straddled one of the chairs, resting his chin on his arms. Chloe resisted the urge to sigh as she realized he was sticking around. She turned to face him, propping herself against the edge of the counter top.

“If it’s ever not, you better report that shit to me,” Chloe deadpanned, still feeling a slight burning in her eyes from the lack of sleep the night before. “Because cold coffee is not allowed on my watch.” It was ironic in one aspect because Max had slept like a baby and Chloe hadn’t had to lull her back to dreamland. A night where Chloe should’ve had a full eight hours of sleep turned in to her restlessly tossing and turning, opening and closing her eyes until it was 6:30 in the morning.

“You got it, boss.” Julius said, pulling out his phone to play with. “The customer service desk looks to be a bit crowded this morning.” So far, Julius appeared to be in good spirit and if he stayed that way then Chloe would have no problem for the time being.

“Oh yes, my favorite place to be,” Chloe remarked, taking another deep sip of the coffee. For a brief second, she considered just sitting directly on the counter top before remembering who she was in the room with. They were off the record here, but she didn’t trust Julius enough to be herself. “Would you like a cup?” asked Chloe, both as genuine concern and as practice for her manners. Part of maintaining her position as a supervisor meant restraining her usual personality traits, although most coworkers tended to appreciate Chloe even on her really bad days. Again, Julius was not one of those people.

The curly-haired brunet looked up to her from his phone with an absent gaze. “Oh,” he said shortly. “Not yet, but thanks for offering.”

“Not a problem,” Chloe said, setting her cup down to run both hands over her face and up through her hair. _Come on, Price. The day hasn’t even started yet. You can’t be beat up already._ She thought about all of the crazy days at work she had already conquered, and then all of the crazy days she had had, period. The fact that her misdemeanor record from Arcadia Bay hadn’t screwed her out of a job was a miracle, but that wasn’t the worst out of all the things she had done before. Breaking into an attorney’s office, stealing a gun from her paranoid stepfather, trying to con Nathan Prescott… _Holy fuck, I was such a trouble-maker. It’s a wonder I’m standing here today._ It truly was a wonder, given her lack of self-discipline before that fateful week back in 2013. Since then, she had adopted quite a bit of grit and self-control along with other interestingly pragmatic advantages like having a time traveling girlfriend around to save her ass anytime something went wrong. Max _might_ have coached her on exactly what to say to get the promotion, but to this day she wouldn’t tell Chloe just how many times she had to use her powers to start over. Max enjoyed teasing Chloe in the ways she couldn’t possibly tease back, and Max Caulfield was exactly the thing Chloe needed on her mind to get a warm feeling.

“You look lost in thought,” Julius remarked, as Chloe began to realize he had been staring at her ever since she had addressed him. “Sorry,” his eyes retreated down to his phone screen. “Habit.”

“Yeah, don’t stare at me please,” Chloe replied, finally letting out the huge sigh she had been holding back. “This ain’t the south.” _Thanks, Connor._

“Oh, I know what you mean.” Julius laughed quietly to himself. “They’ll stare at anybody who walks into their sight.” Chloe wouldn’t have learned about that annoying fact had it not been for her and Max’s friend currently down in Florida. However, she didn’t intend on listening to Julius tell whatever story he was working into and immediately downed the rest of the coffee as the radio on her hip sounded off.

“Claire from electronics requesting assistance.” _Claire, needing assistance? Did somebody drop a bomb on electronics?_ Claire was a former supervisor and one of the most hot headed blondes Chloe had ever met, and not in an attractive way. With electronics being right around the corner from the break room, Supervisor Price could get there quickly. If Claire needed help, then it had to be important and Chloe wouldn’t waste time asking the woman what was going on.

Chloe brought the radio up and pressed down on the transmission button. “I hear you, Claire. On my way.” Julius gave her a wave goodbye as Chloe marched toward the door, returning the gesture to him out of a rehearsed formality. Chloe hoped she wouldn’t feel strange about all the manners and stuff eventually, because she really was trying her best to keep this position and better her own attitude because of it. Once out the door, she made a left down the poorly painted hallway until the double doors exiting the employee area came into view. Right outside would be the early shoppers purchasing games and consoles way out of her affordability and all sorts of gadgets.

As the punk—or in this case, the ‘glowing face of customer service’ she had begrudgingly created—entered the electronics department, it was readily apparent what was going down from the angry voice and apologetic Claire an aisle over. Rage was something Chloe was no stranger to. Though an unfortunately large chunk of her childhood involved feelings of angst coupled with fury, she had kept it manageable as of late. The situation unfolding on the other side of the TV aisle sounded like Claire was the target of a fuming customer. Chloe quickened her pace, passing along the numerous rows of display TVs until she could see both parties. The older man had frizzled gray hair and what looked to be a half-shaven visage with beady eyes, and he was tearing into the very uncomfortable blonde trying to help him with whatever his issue was. In his shopping cart sat a large flatscreen TV box, and Chloe already had an idea what his damage was.

The last shipment of the TVs in question had numerous issues ranging from dead pixels to certain features not working. It wasn’t really something that Chloe or the workers were responsible for and customers experiencing the problems were offered replacements without further charge, so attacking anyone at this store over the problem was asinine to her. Chloe could see that the frizzled man was livid, but that glare he was shooting at Claire and the patronizing tone gave her a jolt of bottled up consternation she had forgotten about. He was behaving similarly to a man from her life before leaving Arcadia Bay, a man named David Madsen. Even if Chloe didn’t like Claire, she didn’t deserve to be chewed out like this.

“Why can’t I get something that works right the first time?” the old man ranted as the distraught blonde looked to Chloe for help. Supervisor Price tried to relax her posture and made direct eye contact with the angry customer, trying to take his ire off of her coworker and onto her. That was something she could at least work with.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” Chloe began, hoping to direct him to the customer service desk where his issue could be resolved when he cut her off. Already, this man was chipping away at her retail face.

“Inconvenience is an understatement. Don’t you people check these things before putting them on sale? This is the second one I’ve gotten that didn’t work right!” The man’s voice rose as each word rolled out of his mouth, but Chloe reminded herself that she had dealt with worse before. She decided to let him humor her and allowed the man to drone on. “Seriously, if there’s a problem with the whole shipment, you should take them all off of the shelves.”

“I promise you sir, we have. Now have you taken your receipt and item to the customer service desk?” There was no way he hadn’t heard the vexation in her tone this time around. At the end of the aisle, a few nosy customers had gathered to listen in on the raving old man while pretending that they were browsing. Chloe could give less of a fuck if they made a scene since she knew she was in the right here. _Fuck that ‘customer is always right’ noise_ . The old man scrunched his forehead, waving the crumpled receipt in her face. _Okay, strike two. Invading my personal space._ If he pushed her any further, the ‘customer service’ gloves were coming off.

“This is the second TV I’ve gotten from your store that won’t work! You’re selling us defective products! Boy, they wouldn’t have done this to me back in the day.” His entitlement was really starting to light her fuse, but he hit strike three with his next sentence. “Millennials in the workforce. You little shits have no concept of value, do you?”

“Hah!” Chloe had had enough of this old man’s shit. Like a teapot on the verge of exploding, he had finally knocked her filter out. Even if there was a tiny murmur whispering that she would regret this later, she spoke freely. “You’re a shining example of a grumpy old tool aren’t you? If you had so much shit to complain about, you didn’t need to shop here again or harass our employees.”

“How dare you say that to me,” he replied aggressively. “Get your supervisor here, I’m reporting you!” Chloe smugly flashed the ID on her lanyard, watching his beady eyes snap to it.

“Hi, I’m the supervisor. Either go to customer service or leave before I have you kicked off property for singling out my employees.” Chloe’s smile sold it perfectly as he threw up an offensive gesture, took his shopping cart and started for the front of the store. His very next words brought even more joy to Chloe.

“I’m never shopping at this fucking store again,” he declared loudly. “Not when you punks are the ones running things!” For all the ranting and raving, this old man was nothing but an insect in comparison to the fish Chloe had fried in her past. From her right, she spotted the gray uniform of their security guard headed straight for the volatile customer. He nodded to Chloe and she replied with the cheekiest smile and nod she’d ever given the officer, whose name she still hadn’t memorized. It was clear that somebody had alerted security, not that Chloe cared in the slightest. While the guard escorted the old man away, Supervisor Price turned to face Claire, placing her hands on her hips as the blonde appeared lost for words.

“Holy shit, Chloe,” Claire said. “Thank you.” Receiving compliments from Claire was rare and hearing any form of gratitude from the blonde made Chloe wonder if she had actually fallen asleep in the break room. Claire raised her left brow as Chloe pinched herself on the arm to verify that she was not, in fact, dreaming.

“Yeah well, if he has a problem with you or me he can go fuck himself,” Chloe leaned in quietly as she spoke, earning another worrisome frown from Claire. “You’re welcome, by the way. What an amazing start to the day!”

“Captain Price to the rescue!” Behind the two girls, a coworker Chloe very much enjoyed named Robert praised her. Today, Robert had slicked his black hair into a wedge and it actually made him rather handsome. When it came to dress code, Chloe’s only rule was to not come to work looking like death. She could care less for regulations on hair, tattoos, or piercings. Robert was fine under her watch even as he decided to peacock so long as he just wore the standard navy blue company-issued shirt and pants.

“Bluebeard,” Chloe corrected Roberts as he said hello to Claire. “But you get brownie points for pop culture references. That’s more my girl’s style than mine.”

“You know what I’m saying, Chloe. You got our backs, you’re always out here busting ass with us. I’m glad you’re one of my supes. You have hella courage.” Robert’s words were very appreciated, and Chloe couldn’t resist chuckling.

“I always have your backs when it comes to douchebags,” Chloe promised, even if she didn’t feel so super after the fact. Regardless of justification, she had just ejected a customer and insulted him. The general manager might pull her aside later and she would have to be candid with him about what happened. “It doesn’t matter if they’re from corporate or the front door. If I had said what I _wanted_ to say, I wouldn’t be your supervisor right now. I don’t play well with bullies.” Though her chest was still pounding from the anxiety, she wasn’t shaking. In that moment she had realized how important her coworkers really were to her. Claire and Julius, despite her qualms with the two of them, respected her as a superior and she supported them whenever possible. Robert’s admiration was always welcomed, as were so many others. _Nobody fucks with the employees while I’m here._

The next few hours were fairly normal for Chloe, where she helped out with stocking at one side of the store, and then moved to the front and assisted with the cashiers. Word of her spat got around, although nobody had said anything bad to her. Yet. Chloe was still expecting at the least a verbal reprimand from the GM but that was a lecture she could stomach. Thomas Zgonc was her store boss but the farthest from strict and demanding. If anything, it would be the basic ‘I talked to you about it’ office meeting where he jokingly told her not to be mean to customers even if they deserved it.

Her lunch break had finally rolled around at noon, and she found herself reclining back in a plastic seat inside the break room. Using the chump change Chloe kept handy in her truck she had purchased a six-inch sub wrap from the store’s deli department and enjoyed every bite of the cold delight. She and Max hadn’t had time to cook yet this week after all, but later tonight Chloe had a feeling Ryan and Vanessa planned to take care of them good.

Since she had a few more minutes on her break, Chloe decided to whip out her cell phone and briefly go through what little social media presence she still maintained. She had ditched most of it after leaving Arcadia Bay, but Max and an old friend named Steph had slowly persuaded her to return to the basics. _Fuckin’ Steph,_ Chloe smirked. The Caulfields, Steph, and Aubrey were the only connections Chloe still had to her hometown but they were definitely worth it. In the sea of shit, some people were inspiring to the punk. Although, Chloe had been worrying slightly about Aubrey. Chloe put down the last piece of her sub, her appetite temporarily gone. Where Max was a super-powered woman, and Steph was a fairly successful artist safe in Florida, Aubrey had been stuck on her university campus during a big shooting in her city that happened a few months ago. Since then, the beach blonde had been very paranoid about the state of things in the world. Chloe had gone through a freak storm that wiped out a town, had guns pointed at her, and had nearly been stabbed by a drug dealer. She could never forget what it felt like to be in panic mode, and her friend was hurting alone in San Bernardino.

“We should pay her a visit,” Chloe remarked, staring down at the remains of her sandwich. San Bernardino would only be about an hour away from LA, give or take, and her truck could handle the journey. She was certain Max would enjoy drinking a couple of beers with the woman and catching up, granted the beach blonde had learned how to handle her alcohol by now.

Just as she was about to close out her phone, it buzzed and a caller ID for another coworker popped onto the screen. Chloe had no idea why Omar was using her personal contact at work if he was merely across the store from her, so she answered anyway. “’Sup!”

“Hey Chloe,” Omar’s voice faltered. “I uh, could sure use your help down in auto.” Chloe thought Omar had always been a little eccentric. The punk had chalked it up to growing up with a different culture, although she had never been able to confirm that. Omar had originally been transferred from another store and grabbed a promotion she had been fishing for, but he ended up being a pretty cool guy. Chloe earned a promotion regardless and their working relationship had been very productive since. “I also wanted to ask if you’re okay. I heard about that customer earlier today.”

Chloe’s voice _had_ been a little haggard when she answered the phone, even if she had put some spunk into the greeting. “Relax O, all I did was eject him. He got off lucky.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. So the reason I’m calling you is because I’d like to offer a trade for your services.” Chloe’s demeanor brightened up as soon as he mentioned trade. Aside from being a coworker and fellow supervisor, Omar was also her _dealer_ and if they were offering a trade to Chloe then the auto department was having a clusterfuck day. _At least they know I’m the best mechanic in the galaxy._

“I’ll be right over,” Chloe said jovially, hanging up her phone and finishing the last bite of her sub as quickly as she could. As an employee entered the break room, they were a witness to Chloe’s stuffed mouth while she rushed to dispose of her garbage and get back to work before somebody actually summoned her on the radio. The auto department was located at the other side of the store and she had a few minutes of her break left, so that entitled her to some time without molestation by other staff members. Working her feet over to the department, Chloe spotted the GM before he had spotted her. The bald man who matched her in height was playing on his own phone, but Chloe conceded that a man in charge of an entire store probably needed to have his phone handy. He always acted like answering emails were of the utmost importance but she swore the guy had been watching videos of motorcycles and sports cars on several occasions. Chloe liked that Mr. Zgonc wasn’t a snob about his money, however the man was normally too busy to join the floor with her. She walked by him until he took notice, giving her a standard, firm smile that she returned to him. _So he said nothing about earlier. There’s no way he didn’t hear about it. No fucking way._

The auto department was ostensibly busy from what Chloe could pick out through the viewing window. With five vehicles lined up inside and outside of the garage, there was a very obvious discrepancy in the number of employees currently on shift compared to the cars getting serviced. The six-foot Omar was pacing back and forth in the hot garage next to a shorter red-head in a mechanic outfit. She opened the employee door to the garage and nodded as Omar instantly locked onto her and his troubled frown changing to relief.

“We’re down two people and the other knuckleheads aren’t answering their phones,” Omar told her. “What a crap time for that.” Chloe shot a look to the red-head, who seemed even more clueless than Omar. His name tag read Jonathan and she had never seen the guy working here before today. Judging from the way he looked, Chloe guessed he was a greenhorn.

“That sucks,” Chloe told him, honestly. “I can help out for a little bit. What’s the problem?”

“This truck over here,” Omar pointed to his left at the red SUV elevated by the large mechanical lift. “So it came in for basic oil change and tire rotation, but the owner reported that their engine would steam. I’m not sure what the issue is myself. I mean, I _know_ the obvious, but beyond that.”

“Huh,” Chloe muttered, folding her arms, trying to pretend like she wasn’t amused that the experts were consulting her for help. “Something’s overheating then. Wouldn’t this be more a job for the mechanic shop down the road?”

“That’s what I thought, but they can’t even drive the thing down the road without it steaming up,” Jonathan said, letting Chloe have a taste of his thick rural accent. “Something else I noticed is that the car’s temperature gauge is gone.”

“Makes sense,” Chloe replied to the red-head giving her a confused stare. “When year-round you have the same temperature, you don’t really need a gauge to tell you if something’s wrong. Did they tell you the thermostat broke?”

“No,” Omar replied. “But that’s irrelevant. The radiator is empty so there’s a coolant leak somewhere. We can’t figure out where at.”

“Okay,” Chloe said slowly. It couldn’t be driven without risking further damage to the car and the owner neglected to tell them that when they brought it here, in this California heat. Chloe still wasn’t convinced that they should be bothering with a vehicle in such a state, but Omar promised a trade. There were so many places from which coolant could leak; the radiator itself, the tubes connecting it to the engine, and the pump that filtered it through the engine. “I’ll just take a look and spare the stupid questions.” Chloe reached down to her waist and, untucking her work shirt, pulled it off over her head revealing the tanktop underneath. Within a split second, Jonathan appeared infatuated with the tattoo sleeve on her arm, his eyes wide and a gaping mouth taking over.

“Never seen art before?” Chloe asked him as she neatly folded her shirt over a nearby vehicle and lifted up the hood of the vehicle. It wasn’t exactly the same as her beat up truck, but the basic engine layout was there. She fiddled around with each part, ensuring nothing missed her inspection. Immediately, she smelled the spilled coolant and saw the stains all over the crevasse where the water pump connected to the engine. As she thought, the leak was probably coming from the water pump. She ran her fingers along the tubes running to the radiator, finding no real imperfections there. The radiator itself was old and worn, but it didn’t appear broken in any way. Chloe was confident in her assessment that it was the water pump giving them trouble, but she decided to finish the inspection anyway to ensure nothing was missed. Sure enough, had she told them immediately that she thought it was the water pump she would’ve missed a far worse mistake.

“Jonathan,” Chloe said dryly. “Do you realize the gasket here isn’t screwed on all the way?” The red-headed boy, followed by Omar, both peered down into the exposed engine where Chloe pointed to the loose ring. Before he could say anything, “It had to be you, or else this car would’ve blown up on the way here.”

“It was,” he admitted in defeat. “I know, I could’ve fucked their engine so hard.”

“Well I’m not sure if it really matters considering the car can’t be driven safely right now,” Omar reassured the boy. “But going forward, especially when it comes to oil changes you gotta be on top of that stuff.”

“Also,” Chloe said when she felt something unsettling in her stomach. Placing a hand over her mouth, she burped without a second thought. Omar laughed and pressed a palm to his forehead, simultaneously shaking his head at the slightly embarrassed strawberry blonde. “Shut up, it was a great sub.” _I also scarfed it down because of you two_. The punk continued once she received their undivided attention. “I think your problem lies in the water pump. This whole SUV is fucked though. If you add some coolant to the radiator it might last long enough to make it to the shop.”

“Yes, well,” Omar rubbed the bottom of his chin while patting the meek red-head beside him on his back. “I don’t think we’ll be touching the vehicle further. The rotation and oil change is done with.”

“Hey,” Chloe said, nudging Jonathan so he would look up from the floor to her. “What could have happened didn’t happen. Just double or triple check things until you’re confident again.” She knew all about days where her mistakes robbed her of courage. Hell, that might still happen to her later today over Sergeant Butthole from electronics.

“Thanks,” he said to her. “Hearing that helps.”

“Nowwwwww,” Chloe stretched her arms up into the air. “You spoke of a trade, buddy. I need to hit the old dusty trail towards customer service.” She watched Omar’s gaze stiffen as he snickered. Without saying a word, he patted Jonathan once more, this time on his shoulder, before beckoning Chloe to follow him out the garage doors to the parking lot. Chloe followed without question as he beelined for his car toward the edge of the lot. This wasn’t the first time she had met with him during work hours, although she usually opted to do it after work to avoid unnecessary risk. It had been months since she had a decent high and Omar was the man to go to—that wasn’t to say his shit was the best shit, but it didn’t reek of any funky smell, meaning she could get it to her truck without problems.

“I’ll talk to him after this,” Omar promised, in a rather condescending manner that Chloe wasn’t used to. It didn’t sound like the man at all to come off that way. Raising her left brow, she wondered what his problem was.

“He’s not the only dumbass here, O,” Chloe calmly said. “You didn’t catch that either. Don’t be so harsh on him.”

“This is why I love you, Miss Price,” Omar casually replied, though his slightly weaker and reserved gait indicated that her words had come as a shock. “The men here wouldn’t have the balls that you have.”

“I just don’t take any shit,” Chloe said in response. “No offense to you.”

“Of course, Chloe. I take none.” They had arrived at his beat up, sun-faded blue two-door parked right underneath the same pine tree where she always saw his car during store hours. Using his keys to unlock the car manually, he opened the door and reached into the center console as Chloe leaned back against his car. Omar didn’t seem to mind at all, and he kept digging for the goods while Chloe scanned the front of the store. She hadn’t realized how busy they really were. After all, it was a Wednesday in spring. _Then again, wouldn’t this be the time to be out and about?_ Chloe realized it had been a full year already, since she had met those three back in the ruins of Arcadia Bay. An entire year had passed since two questionable private eyes had chased them down, and a year since they had come face to face with a hillbilly ranting about conspiracies and visions.

 _Along with that other time traveler._ While she had no problem at all with the three friends they had inadvertently made during the ordeal, what she refused to do was give ‘Time Prick’ any ounce of respect. Seriously, Max had the power to change lives on a whim and this person _scared_ her. Thinking of Max being terrified of anything—especially after all the heroism Max had shown her personally—made Chloe ready to stomp Time Prick right out of existence. Even if it probably wasn’t possible, a girl could always dream.

“Here it is,” Omar spoke to himself inside the car, muffled, drawing Chloe’s empty glare from the parking lot to the man bent over his driver’s seat. “Here’s the indica. You know, they have a ballot measure coming up in November. By next year this stuff might be completely legal.”

“Awww,” Chloe whined, folding her arms. “Poor little you’ll be out of business, huh?”

“I still got this shop to keep running,” Omar slid out of the car, nonchalantly holding out the ziploc bag. Chloe took it graciously and slid it into her pocket. What he offered was a tiny amount, but the punk was nevertheless happy.

“Speaking of, I gotta make this quick. Somebody’s going to miss me back inside,” Chloe pointed her thumb over her shoulder towards the store. “Now that purgatory hours are over, it’s kinda chill inside.”

“Speak for yourself,” Omar wiped at his forehead, closing his door and manually locking it. His eyes lit up for a moment, raising an index finger and reaching into his pocket for something. At the same time, the sound of burning rubber forced Chloe to spin around as a red car barreled around the corner of the building at an unsafe speed. Not only were there black tire tracks on the pavement, but dust kicked up from the wheels lingered in the air as the car disappeared into another shopping center, its engine roaring like a predator chasing prey. A few years ago, Chloe would’ve thought that was pretty kickass. Now, considering the driver was likely compensating for a tiny penis and how it was an establishment she had some responsibility over, it annoyed her. _Dear god, wait until Max hears this… I’m conforming to society._ Chloe jokingly wanted to shiver at the thought, when Omar got her attention.

“Hey Chloe, did you drop your cell phone back in the shop?” Chloe instinctively reached for her left side pocket after the realization hit that she felt lighter. She suddenly experienced that jolt of despair associated with the thought that something containing personal information and memories could be lost.

“Shit,” she cursed after checking her empty pocket. “Uh, yeah. Where’d they find it?”

“Next to that crap truck you inspected,” he told her, holding the phone to his ear. “Don’t freak out, Jonathan didn’t look at your naughty pics for too long.”

“This is me laughing,” Chloe’s brittle response was enough make Omar shake his head. She actually _had_ pictures on there for nobody’s eyes but her own. Much more than simple voyeurism, Chloe kept all of her pictures of Rachel and her mother. Having lost nearly everything in the storm meant her only sentimentality came from the photos she had backed up on the cloud and that phone.

“This is me apologizing,” Omar lowered his head with a smile. Chloe rolled her eyes and without further conversation she headed back to the garage, only stopping momentarily to inspect the handiwork left over by the over-compensator that had just sped through. Knowing how the regional office operated, this would take forever to scrape off the pavement. After grabbing her phone from the red-headed boy and dropping the goods off in her truck, she finally returned to normal line of work: helping customers who were, most of the time, reasonable even when inconvenienced. As much as she wished she could’ve lit up some of the bud before she came back inside, she wasn’t risking that shit.

The rest of the day was fairly busy but also peaceful for what Chloe was used to. None of her coworkers had a hiccup that couldn’t be fixed, nor did the lecture she had been dreading from Mr. Zgonc happen. She wasn’t quite sure if the old man simply hadn’t reported her or if the people who heard hadn’t snitched on her. At this job, that was next to impossible considering how loud-mouthed some people like Claire were. Eventually though, Chloe was able to flush worry from her mind and became lost in the routine until she was saying her goodbyes and out the door faster than the road runner. Her feet hurt from being on the floor roughly all day and her back was a bit sore but laying down or cuddling up to her photographer could remedy that.

She made it to the truck, slinging the door open effortlessly and climbed up into the cabin of her second most prized possession. _This truck right here has seen some shit._ From Rachel bleeding out in the passenger seat to driving through hurricane winds, this faded brown fixer-upper was as much a person with a story as Max was to Chloe.

The instant Chloe sat down, it was like she melted into the seat. A groan escaped her lips as she laid back and cracked her shoulders and back, reaching down to pull out her phone and go over some more social media like the stereotypical _Millennial punk_. Her friends list was comparatively small to Max’s, who had made a lot of friends on the internet. They both had to be careful though, considering there had been a time that every chem-trail and weather-machine fuckhead had been stalking them after Arcadia Bay flatlined. She had to change her surname online to “Caulfield” to keep out of the spotlight while Max just adopted her online persona in lieu of her legal name. All in all, it worked out fine.

While scrolling through pictures of places and cats, she noticed that Aubrey had shared a news article about the shooting in her town regarding a cell phone that the authorities had acquired from one of the terrorists. It was nasty a subject, and all the more reason for Chloe to question whether the world was always cruel or if there were people out there causing chaos like Time Prick. Out of curiosity, Chloe noticed two comments on the article and opened them.

Aubrey’s ex-boyfriend, Jack or as Chloe liked to remember him as, _Shitforbrains,_ left his usual incendiary comment regarding race and nationality. _Why the fuck is he still in your life?_ It was clear to her that he had no shot with Aubrey for more than just the obvious reasons that he was a huge asshole, but the fact that she tolerated his bullshit was still surprising. The second comment was left by Hyram, which said: _Damn, is there a breeze or rustling? I heard something but it came off as unintelligible._ Some things never change and without consciously doing so, Chloe had shaken her head while smiling. Hyram had his stupid moments, but the boy could cheer her up. She then noticed something completely unexpected, as the person who had liked his comment was Steph Gingrich.

“What?” Chloe shouted aloud, immediately opening up a message box to text Steph. “Since when have _you_ been friends with those two?” It was a fair question. Steph had only come back into her life about seven months ago after Max and Chloe reached out to people from their adolescent years, people who had left town way before anything paranormal or supernatural touched down. Seeing her interacting with Aubrey and Hyram was strange, but Chloe wasn’t sure if it actually bothered her. Steph was a nerd like Max, so she definitely got out there with things.

Ten minutes had passed since she had essentially chilled out in her truck. Other coworkers were passing by and getting into their own vehicles, and the time on her phone reminded her that she had plans and a drive on the crazy LA highway to get there. Chloe took a moment to simply acknowledge the fact that despite everything that had happened to her, she was living a life. It wasn’t the greatest life in the world, or anything what she had imagined for herself, but she was living in Los Angeles, had a decent job and nobody to answer to except for herself and Max. Disregarding the fact for a moment that Max was a superhero in all but the act, Chloe had made it. It didn’t feel amazing or glamorous. It simply felt, after some struggle finding the right word for it, acceptable. The things that she and Max had gone through would have destroyed most people. For a time, she thought it had, but they both persevered. Tonight, Chloe was going to enjoy that normalcy and intimacy of romance and family and remove all those shitty thoughts that followed her around all day long.

The truck gave her its usual shit when she put her keys into the ignition, sputtering a tad before the engine kicked in. Sometimes she also thought of her truck like a troublesome steed that needed a reminder every once in a while who was the boss. She sped out of the parking lot and onto the main road until she was in the clear on the busy LA highway headed to Glendale. If she got there fast enough she might have time to actually shed her uniform and nap before Ryan and Vanessa showed up at their nearly spotless apartment.

She fiddled with the knob on her radio until something heavy blared out of her speakers. Better bass was on her list of things to eventually do to the truck but for now she’d settle to rock out on what she had. As the music became faster and even heavier, so too did Chloe’s speed on the highway until she began to notice little details on the other vehicles. To her right was what looked like a suped-up red Camero with fins and hood scoops that seemed to be dick measuring with the sleek black Porsche in the farthest lane. This was one of the rare moments where Chloe was disappointed in her set of wheels because if she had the means, she’d leave those two in the fucking dust. In her rear-view mirror, the sight was not nearly as exciting as the lesser, more conventional makes and models filled the highway. Although, there was a red muscle car that looked an awful lot like the one that had marked up her job’s pavement like a bat out of hell. They had to be long gone in reality, so Chloe sank a bit into the seat and kept her eyes on the road ahead. She would be back at her cozy little kingdom soon enough. Her place was only twenty minutes out from work on a good day, and it had already been about ten minutes since she had left.

She pulled into a space reserved for tenants, already spotting the big red sign that said Crestfall Complex—her home as of nearly two years ago. The apartment complex was better than she had thought it would be and affordable, given that they were in one of the most expensive states in the country. With twenty-four/seven access to washers and dryers, a community pool and a very tiny gym, it was certainly a welcoming surprise when they had apartment-searched with help from Max’s parents. Of course, those two wouldn’t sell them short when it came to setting up a home even if they preferred Max living close to them. _The pool’s gross and the laundromat always smells bad, but you can’t get everything you want._

She knew Max had been stressing out about this week. The brunette still hadn’t called Kristine Prescott, something she was interested in doing but kept putting off. On top of that, they were dealing with her parents. Ryan was always a cool dad, but Vanessa could sometimes come off as very imposing on her daughter. It wasn’t really something Chloe was comfortable getting in the middle of but she would stand up for Max if she had to. Odds were that nothing bad was going to happen and she was stressing for nothing, so she jumped out of the truck and immediately took notice of the Caulfield’s white minivan parked four spaces over. _No nap for you, Price._ For a quick second, their old beige car, which she hadn’t seen since her father’s funeral, flashed across her mind. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant memory to have, but she quickly heaved forward. Their apartment was toward the center of the complex on the second floor and she was so close to just crumpling onto the couch and chilling with Max and family. She could already picture Ryan’s lumberjack beard and Vanessa’s unreadable eyes studying her.

Chloe hurried past the wrought-iron gate running along the perimeter of the pool and management office, and when she rounded the mailbox corridor she spotted her Knightess in Shining Armor, Max Caulfield in a burgundy sundress and heels. Chloe’s lips curled at the sight of her smoking hot girlfriend, who while wearing heels was almost tall enough to kiss her without help. “Hot damn, are we on a date or a family dinner night?” Chloe flirted as Max met her halfway and wrapped her arms around Chloe, the two of them meeting lips with closed eyes. Chloe was already at home in the photographer’s arms. “For real girl, you’re wearing this out tonight?”

“I wanted your opinion, really,” Max said coyly, giving her fluttery lashes and eyes that playfully met Chloe’s. Chloe laughed boisterously and leaned out, placing a hand on the side of Max’s face while she kissed the brunette yet again.

“Max, if you’re dressing up then I gotta do it too. Yuck,” Chloe stuck her tongue out.

“I told you if you keep doing that I’m liable to bite it one day,” Max teased her, which only egged the punk to get closer and closer until Max made due on her promise and bit Chloe’s tongue. _Her mistake_. Chloe used the moment to push her tongue further past Max’s lips and run it across the roof of her mouth as she pulled the woman into a passionate embrace. Chloe’s phone began to ring in her pocket, right where Max had placed her knee at as the kissing grew more intense. Too bad, because that vibration was the last thing on her mind as Max pushed Chloe into a space between the corner and a mailbox, and Chloe felt that knee pressed harder against her thigh. Suddenly, and much to Chloe’s dissatisfaction, Max pulled her lips away and let go of the girl currently pinned against the wall.

“Fuck you,” Chloe said, smilingly. She was turned on and Max had so done this on purpose.

“I know you’ve wanted to for a few days,” Max shot back, a tiny smirk on the left side of her face. “I wanted to make sure you were still interested.” _She was paying me back for two days ago? You son of a gun!_

“Fucking hell, Caulfield,” Chloe laughed as she went to tap Max on her ass when the girl caught her hand and pulled her away from the wall. “I know, I know,” the punk muttered, adjusting to Max’s hand-holding in the heels. “I still can’t believe you put those on your feet.

“I know,” Max replied happily. “I really wanted to see what you’d say. I’m not actually wearing them out, my feet already hurt.”

“I love you, by the way.” Chloe and Max ascended the stairs up to their apartment, hand in hand until they reached the front door. Max turned the knob and opened it up, revealing the red-bearded Ryan and dark-haired Vanessa lined up at the door waiting for them.

“Chloe!” Ryan exclaimed, extending his hand out to the punk who shook it graciously. She decided hiding her exhausted, goofy smile was pointless, but as soon as Ryan released his grip on her hand Vanessa appeared in front of her, arms outstretched. Chloe hated random bouts of affection from anybody but Max, but how could she say no to Max’s mother? She returned the hug even if it felt partially draining.

“Fancy seeing you two here,” Chloe joked as she spoke to the group congregating in their living room. Ryan hadn’t aged a day, and neither had Mrs. Caulfield. These two were seriously far more than potential in-laws. Without their help, Chloe and Max would be living out of a box or worse.

“Fancy seeing us on the week you invited us down?” Ryan mocked her lovingly. “Yeah, fancy that.”

“How was work, Chloe?” Max said, smiling brightly with hands folded together. Chloe couldn’t tell whether Max was nervous or just being awkward at social interaction with her parents. Allowing her eyes to roll up to the ceiling and tapping a finger on her shoulder, Chloe made the look of critical thought.

“It wasn’t my best, but it wasn’t my worst. You?”

“A chapel wedding,” Max replied shortly. “They were really in a rush. I think my pics are really bad, honestly.” The brunette had began running her right hand through her bowl-cut hair. Hearing Max doubt her superb photography skills made Chloe slightly unhappy, but she knew better than anyone what Max was feeling right now. They needed to enjoy time with the family and just unwind.

“Well, I hope you two are ready for bread sticks,” Ryan Caulfield boasted, “because your mother’s got a reservation lined up that you’ll love.” Breadsticks were a nice thought but Chloe realized that she was the only one not dressed for the occasion, and to be frank, she could use a shower after this kind of day.

“I really did miss you guys,” Chloe told them. In her head, she didn’t believe she could make them understand how much she had. “But I need to peel out of this uniform and get ready for the mushy stuff. You don’t mind waiting, right?”

While Ryan repeated ‘mushy stuff’ under his breath, Max nodded. “Don’t take too long, I might get lonely out here.”

“Puppy dog,” Chloe called her, immediately kicking off her work shoes— _Oh yes, I had to adopt work shoes instead of my boots_ —and walked off to their bedroom. Chloe grabbed the door handle, pulling it open as Vanessa began commenting on the kitchen and how adorable she found it. So far, her parents sounded like they weren’t going to nag them on their living conditions. Chloe took comfort in that, knowing that meant one less potentially tense conversation on the horizon.

She immediately threw off the shirt and loosened her belt until the baggy pants fell to the carpet. For the first time all day, she let her bare skin take in cold air conditioning. Now, she could go with the stereotypical punk routine for dinner but that wouldn’t match Max, and god would it be hard to match Max. She never wore anything outside of her strange ‘indie’ style. After sifting through the closet for several minutes, Chloe realized just how few dress clothes she actually possessed. It was an honest problem, but then again this was Max and her family. Would they really care if she didn’t dress up fancy? _I know in the end Max and I won’t care._

Eventually, Chloe settled on a light red long-sleeve shirt with two buttons at the neck, black pants and opted to wear her traditional boots. From the naked eye it wouldn’t make her stand out too much, and she felt damn good in her boots again. It had been so long since she had an excuse to wear them, and despite the fact that this occasion was still rather inappropriate for that sort of footwear, she was doing it.

All she had to do now was stash the weed baggie in her closet, wash up her face, brush her hair and they’d be all ready to do whatever. A yawn escaped her mouth while she searched through her work pants until she had her phone safely in her hands. Chloe couldn’t believe it had fallen out of her pockets to begin with, and thankfully that crisis had been averted by the red-headed mechanic. On her screen, she saw a voicemail notification left about ten minutes ago, while she had been in full make out session downstairs. The number was an unknown, which was weird considering they had actually left a message. Deciding there was no harm in checking the thirty second message, Chloe was about to play it when another call from the same unknown number popped up.

Clearing her throat, Chloe accepted the call and cordially said, “Hello.” It could have been somebody from work calling out for tomorrow’s shift, or any number of things. In any case, Chloe had to give the impression that she wasn’t actually a rambunctious rebel but a responsible leader.

“Oh, Chloe Price. How the fuck have you been?” The man’s voice came off hostile and coarse, and she instantly recognized it from somewhere. It definitely wasn’t one of her coworkers or anybody from virtual school with that attitude. An alarm had started in her head and her heart beat faster as she realized that this person wasn’t here to call out or send transcripts.

“Excuse me, who is this?” Chloe demanded.

“How’re you and your dyke doing in LA?” the caller asked, or rather interrogated Chloe. “Does she fuck better than your old squeeze?” Her blood began to boil, like a frying pan filled with nothing but grease. It was one thing to insult her, but bringing both Max and Rachel into the mix was deserving of a dick punch. However, Chloe had no fucking idea who she was talking to and that freaked her out more than anything. That was something Nathan Prescott would have said, but that fucker died along with Rachel at the hands of Jefferson. This caller also sounded nothing like him. She had pissed off plenty of people in Arcadia Bay, but how many of them were still around?

“Oh please,” Chloe replied angrily, feeling her hands trembling as she spoke. “Whoever the _fuck_ you are, you do _not_ want to give me an excuse.”

“An excuse to do what? Be a whoring cunt like you? You made your bad choices a long time ago.” This made Chloe laugh nervously, because there was no rational way to respond to this bullshit other than to hang up. She couldn’t simply let this go so easily, even if every fiber of her being told her to.

“Why don’t you be a big boy and tell me who you are? Where you are? This whoring cunt will kick your pathetic little ass!” That time was loud enough to silence the living room, and Chloe cursed under her breath. The caller cackled, seemingly hearing her. She was so unnerved but her old coping mechanism was soon to kick in. She wanted to break shit, bad. _Who in the_ fuck _is this asshole?_

“Some time soon, I hope I get to. You and your bitch are going to pay for what you’ve done.” That was the end of the call, as it disconnected. Chloe’s eyes were watering, her hands had formed fists and she was shaking so hard, nearly crushing the phone in her hands as she threw it onto the floor. She sat down on the bed, unable to process what had just happened. It was happening again. There was never a normal life for the two of them.

“Chloe,” Max cracked open the door, a look of severe concern all over her countenance. Behind Max was her mother, also appearing oblivious to why Chloe had been screaming in their room. Now Chloe must have looked unstable to her family, and she felt even shittier. “What happened?”

“Somebody called and threatened us,” Chloe told her, tears rolling down her cheeks. Max pushed the door open and plopped down on the bed, immediately wiping the tears from her cheeks and running a hand lightly over her back for comfort. Vanessa asked if there was anything they needed to do, and Max asked if they could get her a wash cloth.

The Yatagarasu, Time Prick, or someone else entirely was coming after them. Chloe couldn’t imagine any enemies she or Max had made outside of the paranormal kind, but there had to be. She knew that voice. The frustration, that fury had to come from somewhere. And it had been directed all at her.

“I’m sorry, Chloe.” Max said, her fingers trailing the back of Chloe’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you, Max.” Chloe huffed, putting a hand over her face. Now she was getting pissed with Max for the wrong reasons, and Chloe collapsed onto the bed with a quiet whine. “It’s not your fucking fault, but someone wants to hurt us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to lift my hands towards the sun  
> Show me warmth  
> Baby, won't you show me warmth again?  
> And when I can feel with my sun hands  
> I'll promise not to lose her again  
> And even if the morning never comes  
> My hands are blessed to have touched the sun


	3. Nodus Tollens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For returning readers, please check the Prologue for cover art done by @Lizoness!

#  **Chapter Two: Nodus Tollens**

**_Friday, March 18_ ** **_th_ ** **_2016, 5:30PM_ **

Max had to remember to breathe in and out. It wasn’t happening to her anymore. For that matter, it hadn’t happened to her for years but the photographer still felt Nathan Prescott’s death grip around her neck as he had thrashed her around madly in the Blackwell Academy parking lot. That day she had been psyched out from her vision of the tornado, leaning against Warren Graham’s hand-me-down car when the disturbed Prescott had approached. He had been angry with the photographer telling the Principle about Nathan threatening Chloe with a gun in the women’s restroom, and had been out for blood. No matter how much compartmentalizing she tried, Max couldn’t snap out of it. She remembered how Nathan had knocked Warren onto the ground and then had seized her by the neck with one hand. So much anger and predation had settled on the now-deceased Prescott Heir’s mug, and if only back then had Max known just how fucked up Blackwell’s secrets truly were and how powerful her rewind abilities would get.

After the threatening phone call that Chloe had received two days back, Max had to wonder if it was possible that anybody from Arcadia Bay had survived. Even worse, she feared that the Yatagarasu, the phantom that continued to haunt her since she had met Connor and company, had gotten to them first. Chloe had sworn up and down to her that the caller’s voice was not Nathan, but somebody else’s. Max had no reason to question her girlfriend on that note, but it was hard for Max to rationalize half of what they had seen these days. She couldn’t rule anything out at this point.

Max’s surroundings began to return to her as the breathing exercises slowed her beating heart. She closed her eyes and unclenched her jaw, fingers sliding over her shoulders and rubbing at her neck tenderly. Nobody had ever laid hands on her like that before, and it was something she’d never forget no matter how hardened the world made her. The sound of an opening door put Max’s attention off of her own thoughts to the breakroom’s entrance, where the brunet pony-tailed barista looked down at her with a perturbing frown.

“You okay? Did you fall?” asked Tobias, Max’s good friend and coworker.

“Did I fall?” Max repeated, taking a look around the room. Whether she had fallen onto the floor or curled up into a ball in the corner of the room was unknown, but either way it looked bad. She had told him that she needed to be off the floor for a few minutes after feeling like she was going to vomit. It hadn’t been an easy two days for her or Chloe since the phone call, and she thought at the very least that work would’ve been the last thing that it would interfere with. Tobias walked towards Max, leaving the door to the busy cafe outside ajar. Max could see the line forming at the counter, realizing she was seriously dumping this on Tobias. Even in his apron, the young man was broad shouldered and nordic-like in appearance. Perhaps it was the braided ponytail or the hairy arms combined with his general buff appearance, but Max almost wanted to describe him as ‘viking-like’. He extended a muscled arm down to Max, who took it and leveraged herself off of the ground.

“Talk to me, Max. What’s going on?” After giving her space to breathe once more and exhale, Tobias sat down on the ugly leather couch adjacent to the corner she had pressed her back against. If he had left the front to talk to her, then he was leaving the store unsupervised. Max opened her mouth to protest when he held up a hand and smiled. “Ria’s on the front. She came in a few minutes ago.” Max sighed and shook her head, both unsure of where to begin and uncertain just how much she could share with him. After all, her problems regarding superpowers had a limited audience—Chloe of course, Connor, Aubrey and Hyram. Even Steph, who Max had finally gotten to meet last Christmas, hadn’t gotten the clue yet and given the woman’s intuition, she would eventually figure it out. To tell Tobias she was not only a time traveler but also under attack from another possible time traveler would either cement a life long friendship or end with a suggestion to see a therapist.

“Remember the story I told you about Nathan Prescott?” Max brought up what she had already shared with the viking, taking a seat on the couch beside him. “The messed up kid whose father practically ran my home town?” Tobias nodded without saying a word. “Well, he had grabbed me one time in the school parking lot, by the throat. I was in shock and with all the crazy stuff that had happened that week, it didn’t really bother me until later when I remembered all of it in detail.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Tobias declared. “He ain’t here to grab you any more and for that matter, this little prank caller of yours I’d love to meet too.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you in harm’s way,” Max quietly laughed, patting him on his arm when his lips quirked. She wasn’t going to let Tobias within an inch of this asshole messing with Chloe. He raised up his right arm and flexed, showing off his huge bicep.

“Seriously, Max?” Tobias scoffed. “You think anybody can outmatch these guns?”

“ _Real_ guns can, Mr. Cage,” Max deadpanned. “And unlike him, you aren’t bulletproof.”

“Hey,” Tobias drawled. “If I’m gonna be Luke Cage, then you’d make a killer Jessica Jones. You’d have this wrapped up so fast.” _If only you knew how ironic this was, Toby_ . Max had powers and was still clueless on what to do. If Nathan was still dead— _Jesus, I sound like a nut case the more I worry about this_ —then someone else who had come off just as volatile and unhinged was looking into the both of them. In order to combat something like that, Max and Chloe would need to do some digging of their own. She could always hit up the two detectives working under Kristine, but what could they do that Max couldn’t? That, and the last thing she wanted to do was speak to a Prescott, who happened to be a sibling to the boy who had been giving her traumatic flashbacks. “You don’t look like you’re any better,” said Tobias, who now leaned in to stare intensely at Max’s exhausted face.

“I’ll be fine,” Max lied, just wanting for life to go on as normal. _I don’t know what that word means anymore._ “I’m so sorry for leaving you out there. I see it ended up pretty busy.” She gestured towards the open door to the customers waiting in line outside of the room. Upon turning to look briefly out, Tobias shrugged it off with an audible grumble.

“Ria and Brett don’t need you and I around to hold their hand all day, you know. We’ll be fine,” he said, rising to his feet. “Besides, I already called Chloe and she’s on her way to come pick you up and take care of you.”

“You called Chloe?” Max asked, anger in her voice. Tobias meant well, but he didn’t understand just how much shit really was going on. Max direly needed Chloe not to worry about her right now. “I wish you’d ask me first.”

“I know you well enough to know when you need a break,” Tobias defended his action, his own voice rising. “And your girl told me to let her know if this happened again, after the last time.” Max paused, the risen anger now retreating. The previous time she had had an episode had been in the middle of a drive through order. She had not been able to stop itching her neck, the thought of a needle piercing her skin had been too much to contend with. She had almost slipped that day and confessed to Tobias about her time in the Dark Room, which technically hadn’t happened to her in this reality. “You need to chillax some, okay? We’re only human, and you’re already close to clocking out anyway, right?”

“Yeah,” Max replied shortly. “About an hour left.” Chloe would be there in less than 20, considering the distance from there to Glendale. “I’m sorry for almost snapping. You have no idea how crazy it’s been.”

“I might if you’d talk to me, pal,” Tobias said as he walked back to the front of the cafe. “Just do me a solid and use the time sheet before you go and don’t forget about your apron. I’ll see you some other time and, I seriously hope you guys feel better.” He paused, his brows pointed before he spun back around. “I put your camera bag in the locker room.”

“What for?” Max questioned him, defensively.

“Because you left it by the time sheets. Brett’s on shift, Ria’s nosy. I’m just looking out for you, I know how important your camera is to you.” She hadn’t yet told him about Brett, though there wasn’t much she could say about him that wouldn’t make her sound mental. The man was recently hired, but in another life he had constantly harassed Max and one day he had learned the hard way that grabbing a woman by the wrist was a bad idea. Unfortunately in that life, Max had been fired for breaking his arm. Nobody would touch her the way Nathan or Brett had ever done again, and he sure as shit wouldn’t be touching her belongings in some pitiful attempt to get her to talk to him. She couldn’t get him fired, so all she could do was remain vigilant. There was a tiny chance she could steer him away from being a douche, but Max didn’t know if it was worth the effort coupled with the already crippling stress.

“Thanks, Tobias. You’re the best.” Max smiled at him, matching his verdant green eyes with her own. She seldom made eye contact with somebody unless she trusted them, and Tobias had definitely earned his share of trust with her. He nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone to her thoughts. Regardless, Chloe was coming to get her and she would be out of work early today. She had no idea what they’d do tonight considering mom and dad were still in town and they had also been made aware of the threatening call. The general atmosphere on planet Caulfield was tense, and there was no getting past that for a while.

Having nothing else to do aside from stare at the numerous ‘worker’s compensation’ fliers tacked onto the corkboard, Max whipped out her phone to check in with the rest of her friends. Someone she hadn’t heard from in a while had sent her an amusing comic strip regarding music, adding his own commentary in the process. Max still remembered how drunk Fernando had been when they visited the Fremont Troll in Seattle, and how awkwardly fun it had been even if Max had never touched a drop of alcohol back then. With dark brown hair and a tubby yet confident gait, Fernando was one of the friends she had actually enjoyed accompanying around Seattle.

The second notification came from Connor venting about his job, going into concise detail about catching two shoplifters while somehow getting into an argument with a customer. This was a regular thing for Connor where he spoke miserably about his security job. There were times where Max wanted to give him a hug, and others where she got a little heated over how much shit Connor gave himself. From her experience with security guards, Connor was a saint compared to most in the profession. She still wished she could do much better than platitudes and the occasional phone call, but it was so hard sometimes. Connor thought that he understood her because of his powers, and sometimes it was almost as if that was the only way he could talk to her. Max’s biggest motivator was the tragic memory of Kate Marsh and how Max oftentimes felt like her own inaction had contributed to the quiet girl’s suicide attempt. She couldn’t let that happen to Connor or anybody else ever again. Further, she didn’t want to learn about it after the fact, and be forced to use her powers to fix things. _Especially with a universe that doesn’t take kindly to me undoing death_. It always seemed like lives were on the line when it came to her powers.

Another turning door knob, this time on the opposite side of the room, alerted Max to the person she had been dreading. In an apron of his own with a green baseball cap adorning his short blond hair was Brett, already glaring at Max as if she was the target of his thoughts. She tried not to engage or notice him, instead typing up a text message to shoot back to Fernando. _Maybe he’ll leave me alone and everything will be fine._

“How’re you doin’?” he asked obnoxiously, his feet coming closer and closer towards the couch where Max sat. “This is the first time I’ve seen you chill. You’re always so intense out there.”

“Tobias sent me home,” Max replied tersely, mindlessly typing away on her phone’s keyboard. She still didn’t raise her eyes to look at the potential harasser in the room.

“Oookay,” Brett said, clearly annoyed with the treatment Max was giving him. “You’re in a bad mood. I’ll leave you be.” Max left the silence intact as Brett exited the room to find someone else worth bothering. In her opinion, Max thought she was being pretty fair with the guy considering he hadn’t tried to flirt with her yet. She would definitely be more direct if he ever pushed her on that topic, but it was so frustrating being unable to just deal with it before it happened. It wasn’t like she could plan this out, with how many deviations there had been from the last time she had lived through this period. The photographer thought it best to keep Tobias informed this time around if anything _did_ happen, so that was what she would do. _Or let Chloe come at him. He’d be scared of her, I bet._

Though she was happy to be left alone again, she realized that she had been typing a jumbled mess of letters in the opened text message box. She hadn’t actually been writing a message back to Fernando, but keeping herself from snapping on Brett. Now that the calm had been restored, Max almost wanted to hit send and watch her old friend reply confused at the letter vomit on his screen. Instead, Max reached over to the spot where Tobias had left her camera bag and fetched her journal. She had begun to write when she was frustrated like she did back in school, and it was somewhat cathartic. Even Max had days where she simply didn’t have the energy to spill everything to Chloe, so this would do until she could see her gorgeous punk.

_March 18_ _th_ _2016 (2.0)_

_I had a conversation last night with Chloe that really got me down in the dumps. She brought up the fact that I used to be way quirkier and geekier. It made me angry for a split second, cause why wouldn’t I have changed after all of this crap? It was just one of those moments where you realize how much innocence has truly died. Jefferson didn’t take it all away from me, but all of this other shit like the huge disaster, and Time Prick (just in case you snoop, I don’t want you to scribble anything out Chloe) and now someone who seems to hate me and Chloe stalking her around. I don’t feel like a girl trying to become a master photographer anymore. I feel like I’m going to lose my mind._

_To make it perfect, I had a PTSD moment today over Nathan, that exact moment when Chloe saved me and Warren took the beat down for it. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I really miss him lately. Tobias reminds me a lot of Warren’s better qualities, makes me think a lot more on the boy who was hopelessly crushing on me. I wish I could’ve seen him grow up to become someone awesome. I wish I could’ve seen all of the Blackwell students grow up._

_When it comes to the mess in front of me, I don’t know what to do. I know I need to check on Kristine Prescott, but I can’t have a conversation with her that doesn’t make me feel guilty. In some fucked up way, I feel like Nathan was my fault. Jefferson killed him, buried him and tried to lure us to our own deaths that night, but none of that would have happened if we were just smarter. God, I still remember hearing Nathan’s voicemail again, apologizing to me once Chloe and I broke down on the way to Portland. Even Chloe felt sorry for him. Kristine has done so much good for us since the incident last year, but what happens if she finds out just how involved I was with the storm or her brother? On top of that, what could she possibly do to help us out with Chloe’s stalker? A lot of people call me Supermax, but I sure don’t feel so super right now._

_6:08PM Chloe_

_Get ur ass outside Max Payne_

  


Right on cue, Chloe texted her after about twenty or so minutes and given the teasing nature of the text message, she had had a slightly better day than Max. More importantly, the brunette sincerely hoped that Chloe had been having a _good_ day. She had worked early through the morning hours and Max knew how her employees and customers could be. The photographer wasn’t quite done with the diary entry, but she had plenty of time to return to it with the day still young. Besides, seeing her punk and wrapping her arms around the woman would likely do wonders for her sour mood. Sliding the journal into her camera bag and hanging up her apron, Max cracked open the front door of the break room to spot Tobias filling what looked to be three shots of espresso in one order for a pale, weary-looking red-headed woman in track pants. _Lady, I feel you on a deep, deep level with that order._ It was a sad reminder that she hadn’t had any coffee today and planned on at least sipping on a coke for the rest of the night. Then again, it was the weekend, they were both frazzled and with no work tomorrow, alcohol wasn’t out of the question. She still couldn’t believe there had been a time when she had abhorred even social drinking, but Max needed an escape that didn’t involve time travel.

“Hey Toby,” Max called out to the viking, his stare moving from the latte to her. With a big smile, he waved and told her goodbye for the day but managed to fit in a ‘feel better’ too. Tobias really was precious and Max had to protect him from her crazy world at all costs, even if that included keeping him in the dark about most of her past. She quickly walked through the back of their store, passing Brett without having to say a thing to him. Once she reached the last door of the building, she signed out on the timesheet table and pushed open the door to freedom.

At the very end of the parking lot, she saw the strawberry blonde sitting on the wall of her truck bed, rocking the traditional leather jacket and patched jeans. She didn’t look like she had experienced a bad day at all, just dressed in that grunge style that Max had grown accustomed to. To be fair, it was definitely perfect jacket weather and immediately Max began to feel the cool air roll by. She had desperately missed the cold weather this year and really was looking forward to Christmas. _First time in years, I guess._ Chloe’s face wasn’t buried in her phone as Max had suspected, but glued to a red car parked far across from her in another lot; one Max didn’t recognize from the usual vehicles crammed into the strip mall. _Chloe’s been joking about getting a suped up sports car for a while, now. Maybe she just found the type she’s interested in._

Without wasting anymore time admiring her girlfriend from a distance, Max took off toward the old pickup truck and its rebellious driver. She didn’t enjoy trekking across the back lot even if it was within view of a strip mall with possible street cameras. There had been one incident a month back where somebody there had been bitten by a dog without a leash, and unlike Chloe Max wasn’t that great with animals. The last time she had even touched an animal was during a visit to a pet store in Seattle, and that ferret had bitten her hand hard.

The parking lot was jam packed today, with Max easily spotting Toby’s black convertible poking out from the space nearest to the drive through. Ria’s green moped also greeted her, proving even more that Max had met someone who might have been more of a hipster than she ever was. Halfway through the lot, she noticed that Brett’s black pickup truck was nowhere in the vicinity, unless he had for some reason parked in the strip mall itself. Not that she actually cared about Brett right now, but by this time discerning the usual vehicles had become a routine practice that Max used to relax when she was out here. Of course, she had no idea why she was truly worried with Chloe watching her back and her own skills.

Max looked up at Chloe again as she slung the camera bag to balance the weight on her shoulder, and she noticed that the strawberry blonde hadn’t taken her eyes off of the red car. From this distance, Max began to pick out the face inside of the car—dark skin like someone of Arabic descent, seemingly staring back at Chloe with an absentminded gaze. He wasn’t a regular but then again, with the supermarket behind their store he could simply be a customer or waiting on a customer. It was still weird that he was in a staring contest with Chloe, and when Max turned toward the punk’s face she saw that fiery glare and furrowed brows that let her know that Chloe was either angry, or on a mission.

“Hello gorgeous,” Max greeted her, trying to break the tension. Chloe didn’t budge, and even though her hands were still on her phone, she wouldn’t take her eyes off of the red car. “You know, you’re awfully hot when you’re mad.”

“Hi,” Chloe said with brevity, before jumping off of the truck and holding out her arms, phone still in her left hand. Max took her by the waist and let her cheek rest on Chloe’s shoulder as the taller woman’s arms came to rest firmly on her shoulder blades. “Glad to see my princess isn’t in another castle.”

“Bowzers,” Max blurted out with a suppressed snicker before Chloe pushed her away some, giving the photographer a scrutinizing look. “Oh, sorry. I mean ‘wowzers’.”

“Don’t you ever fuck up your catch phrase like that again,” Chloe scolded her, shaking her head.

“You know that was your fault, right honey?” Max replied as Chloe carefully came in, closing her eyes and kissing Max softly on her lips. Max wondered if Chloe wanted to cut her off or simply needed another kiss after a long day at work. Either way, whatever Max wanted to say evaporated as their lips remained pressed together until they both pulled away, at peace.

“Thanks for coming early,” Max offered her gratitude to the punk, who gave one more look to the red car in the other parking lot. “Hey, what’s going on with you two?”

“Not sure,” Chloe returned quickly, opening the driver’s side door and plopping down into the seat. “Let’s find out.”

“Do you know that guy?” Max asked, trying to see his face again before Chloe impatiently beckoned for her to get into the pickup truck. Chloe, though her eyes rolled to the corner of her countenance, shrugged in reply. “So what is it?”

“He was just looking at me funny, Max.” After a few seconds of giving her the most doubtful grimace she could, Chloe relented. “Alright, I think I might be going crazy. That muscle car looks like one I saw burning rubber at the store two days ago.” Okay, that was something to go with. Chloe hadn’t really mentioned much beyond the idea that some careless kids were joyriding around the town in that thing. “A-Anyway,” Chloe waved it off and blinked several times, trying to get her mind back on track. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling so good. I feel like a bag of dicks myself. Mom and dad are still in town so if you wanna vent, now’s the time.” Max understood, unslinging her camera bag and placing it onto the floor of the truck. She then took the seat belt and strapped herself in while Chloe did the same. It was at this time Chloe started the truck and allowed it to give the usual sputter before pulling out and leaving the parking lot of Max’s cafe behind. The photographer had spent the moment collecting her thoughts, thinking on what to say in order to get straight to the point.

“Tobias caught me mid-flashback curled up in the corner of the break room,” Max admitted, watching half of Chloe’s attentive face contort to one that looked wounded. Her mouth hung agape as Max finished her sentence and immediately, Chloe’s right hand found purchase on Max’s shoulder.

“Max, I’m so sorry. I _hate_ that this shit keeps happening to you,” Chloe pouted, while she turned the wheel and the truck changed lanes and then immediately into a turn. “I just wish for once, we could get a break. It’s been us kicking and screaming ever since I got you back.”

“I’m just glad to see you after work every day, Chloe,” Max said, nuzzling the taller woman’s warm hands with her cheek. Chloe’s fingers stretched further, even while the punk did a lazy turn onto the next road. Max let her eyes rest while she thought about all the times they had played pirate in the Price family backyard, or out in the woods. “Having mom and dad back in town has given me so much to reminisce about. I’m remembering all of the dumb kid stuff we used to do. It’s nostalgic. Now, some things are different of course.”

“What exactly do you mean, my dear Max?” Chloe asked, returning both hands to the wheel. “Do you mean the part where you saved my life like twenty times, or the part where you can rewind fucking _time,_ or did you mean the storm that killed a city, or possibly did you even mean the _other_ storm that killed an entire planet that you somehow _prevented_ by jumping back three years?” Max thought that Chloe was trying to sound funny, but clearly fell short of her goal. The punk suddenly reeled when she realized the tone she had taken, and Max could already see the regret brooding on her lips. Chloe was, even though she had given fair points, actually incorrect.

“Now, we’re in love,” Max said, watching the flush of red wash over Chloe’s cheeks. As if it was hard for the punk to even admit she was touched, Chloe tried to fight back the smile emerging on her face.

“Oh,” she gave. “Damn right, babe. I still can’t believe how down the folks are with us.”

“Did you expect them to do anything to stop us?” Max asked her in response, briefly glancing in the rear-view mirror closest to her. They would soon be on the highway, the home run to Glendale where they could finally plan out their night and possible rendezvous tomorrow. After all, the Caulfields were only going to be around until Sunday, and Ryan had special plans just for Vanessa tonight that gave Max and Chloe time alone.

“Not that, Max. I mean, they actually accept _us_. No bullshit, they just treat us like they would anybody else. I guess it’s not like I expected the opposite, but once it happened I was so relieved.” Given the nature of their relationship, and the fact that Max had to keep reminding herself that those three years she had jumped back from hadn’t happened for Chloe, this was still a big deal for her girlfriend.

“I’m sure Joyce would have approved. William, too,” Max said, hoping she wasn’t going to ruin the moment. Luckily for her, Chloe merely sighed with a smile and balanced her elbow on the driver’s door while resting her face on her palm.

“My fucking dad would claim he saw it coming from how inseparable we were,” Chloe remarked. “Hell, even Rachel got irked over how much I thought about you while you were gone.”

“Trust me, my family asked about you a lot, too. I just wasn’t good at talking to them about things.” Max wasn’t quite sure if Chloe understood, but it wasn’t like Chloe’s mother or stepfather had known much about the her or the punk’s personal life. Chloe nodded along anyway, keeping an ear ready for Max despite her attention on the highway. They had had this exact conversation a few weeks ago, where Max basically admitted that her parents, frankly, didn’t know jack shit about their daughter other than the basic information: that she had severe anxiety and socialization issues, she survived a tornado and she was living with a woman in Los Angeles.

For a few minutes, Chloe trailed off into talking about a new tattoo idea she had, and how she wanted to run it by Hyram. Max sort of recalled Chloe promising to create one for the guy back when they met last year. By this time, Chloe had gotten them onto the highway and they were nearly home when Max noticed a fast approaching car steadily weaving in and out of traffic behind them. Chloe’s truck had to stay in the middle lane for now as it couldn’t possibly compete with the speed demons out today but the closer this red car got, the more it appeared similar to that muscle car sitting in the parking lot they had left only minutes earlier. Max squinted her eyes to focus on the occupant and see if it was indeed the same driver, oblivious to the description of the tattoo Chloe was now drooling over the explanation.

“Earth to Max? Are you even listening to me?” Chloe pushed Max lightly on her shoulder before Max waved her off. “Max?” The photographer focused once more on the rapidly approaching car until she made the connection: the driver was a middle eastern man staring straight at their pickup truck. This was the same car from the parking lot.

“That muscle car is following us,” Max replied uneasily, shooting Chloe a worried look. The strawberry blonde checked her rear-view mirror, cursing at the realization that Max was right. The taller woman slammed on the gas pedal and pushed the truck to its limit while Max continued to study the possible tail. When Chloe switched lanes, the car behind lost some of its speed as if realizing they had come too close but eventually switched into their lane too.

“They’re following us home, maybe?” Chloe spitballed with duress. “That fucker can’t know where we live!” Of course Max agreed with her, but they still didn’t know who this was or what they wanted. It was still possible they were overreacting and this person just so happened to be taking the same route home, but it had been decided the minute Max spoke up that it wasn’t a risk Chloe was going to take. “Okay, okay okay,” Chloe muttered, staring up at the large green traffic signs above them on the highway. “Where can we go?”

Max might not have been a great driver, but one thing she had done well was memorizing the surrounding county. If they were going to avoid going home, there was only one route safest for Chloe’s truck to get off the highway and confuse the car following them. “Get onto Golden State Freeway,” Max instructed her. “We can try to lose them around Atwater.” Los Angeles was a lot like other major metropolises in a sense that it was actually comprised of multiple closely connected cities. Atwater was one of many, and the closest choice for the pair to escape their assailant.

“What if we can’t lose them?” Chloe asked her, swerving back into the middle lane and causing Max to grab hold of the door. Chloe turned her head quickly and shook it with disdain. “It wasn’t that sharp of a turn.”

“You need to calm down, Chloe!” Max shouted. “We’re going to be fine! We’ll shake him,” Max told her, patting the taller woman on the arm.

“This rust bucket sticks out like a sore thumb,” Chloe said, making another sharp turn into the left lane. In the rear-view mirror, Max saw the red car mirroring their lane changes. “What if they just happen to spot it while driving by the apartment?”

“I don’t know,” Max replied, a bit of frustrated with the situation. “Nothing is playing out like it should right now!”

“Like you saw it the first time? No kidding.” Their usual left onto the Glendale Freeway was not an option, so Chloe followed Max’s advice and got off early. It took some time before they could see more city than road, and the new destination forced Chloe to turn left at least three times until they had made it to the edge of the Atwater Village suburbs. As they rolled into the bustling city yet again, a yellow traffic light turning red halted Chloe. Max frantically checked the mirrors and didn’t see the pursuer in the line of vehicles behind them. There was no other way into Atwater from the highway, which set off even more red flags in Max’s head. To her left, Chloe gripped the wheel and her forward-leaning posture could not be healthy for the strawberry blonde’s back or neck. Even though Max wanted to comfort her, the light had just turned red and they were both antsy in their own ways awaiting the inevitable red muscle car. Max instinctively latched onto the camera bag on the floor. From the corner of her peripheral, she spotted Chloe’s booted feet tapping on the floor. Max could tell that Chloe planned to take off like a bat out of hell as soon as that light turned green. Deciding now was as good a time as any, Max unzipped the camera bag and removed William Price’s old Polaroid camera. Holding it up into the air, the camera flashed as it captured Max’s perturbed expression and printed out a photograph with a loud mechanical grind.

“If this was anybody else,” Chloe remarked, grimacing.

“Just a precaution.” Using a photograph was the easiest way for Max’s rewind ability to work when traveling over long periods of time. In case they somehow wrecked or got hurt, Max wanted a way out of it. As soon as the light turned green, Chloe put her foot down on the gas pedal and the truck took off. Just as Max checked behind them again, she saw the same red muscle car at the back of the ramp. They had about five cars between them right now, giving them ample distance to get a head start. But Max had to admit that this driver was one persistent son of a bitch. Chloe took notice in her side mirror and immediately braked, rocking Max forward in the seat. The punk then took an immediate right turn as the green continental they had just brake checked slammed on its horn.

“Calm the fuck down,” Max said in a voice a little under a shout, hiding her panic to the best of her ability. Chloe shook her head no while she did another immediate right turn. Max wanted to sooth her not only because the strawberry blonde was freaking out, but because she was creating a new meaning for the phrase ‘defensive driving’.

“Jesus, Max!” Chloe bellowed. “You can _rewind._ Can’t we lose him that way?”

“Would that be enough?” Max questioned. “How long was he parked at the supermarket?”

“He arrived right after I did,” Chloe stared down at the steering wheel as she recalled.

“It sounds like he was following you, then. He knows where the both of us work. Fuck, if I had to rewind, I don’t know where to begin!” Despite the reluctance, Max started brainstorming their options. Chloe’s pistol was underneath the seat, although Max wasn’t so morally bankrupt that she would risk innocent people’s lives in a traffic altercation. Then, out of the ton of crazy ideas which presented themselves to her, the simplest one settled at the forefront. Max thought she had had a moment of stupidity for not considering this one sooner. Briefly, she realized just how ruthless her first thought had been and felt sick to her stomach. She really _had_ changed, more than Chloe had noticed.

“Then what, Max?” Chloe hadn’t let off on the gas, even though they were close to another red light. “Want me to just get out of the car, march over, pull the fucker out and give him the beat down? I mean, we could…”

“I got it, Chloe.” Max dissuaded her from any threats of violence, taking a deep breath. “We’ll just take routes and if he follows, I’ll rewind. We’ll lose him. If we don’t, I won’t rest until we do.” Max could already feel the twinge in her head, anticipating the pain she would experience within the hour if she exerted herself too much. It had been a while since exercising her power, as it acted very much like a muscle in a sense that practice made perfect. When overexerting herself though, it was as painful as tearing muscles.

“Okay, Supermax.” Chloe’s breathing had calmed and Max could see her grip on the wheel had loosened. “I trust you. Where are we going?”

“Take this left when the light’s green,” Max directed, pulling out her phone to look up maps for reference. As the light turned green and the two cars ahead went straight, Chloe made her left. For several minutes, Chloe kept them straight on the road with no sign of the red car to their backs. Max instructed Chloe to take another left at the next light, and Chloe complied. This part of Atwater had a lot of pedestrian traffic, and soon it became difficult to check corners from so many people in the crosswalks and the like. Right as Chloe completed the turn, they both spotted the pursuing red muscle car— _ahead_ of them, waiting at a traffic light. This tail had cut them off at some point!

Max’s breath hitched. _It’s time to put a stop to this_. She closed her eyes and opened her right palm, feeling for the entrance to another realm. This was going to be a place somehow alien and familiar to her at the same time, and each moment Max spent in this distorted space was a moment that changed her life forever. Max grabbed hold of it with her mind, opening her eyes to a world defying time. Everything began to slow to a crawl, into blurs and shapes and bright hues. The time traveler remained focused on rewinding, but still glanced at Chloe’s ethereal hands turning the wheel right in reverse. The red muscle car also faded from Max’s field of view, undoing the progress it had made cutting their truck off. A slow ringing in her ears started, cascading into something louder and louder until she could feel the pressure inside of her skull pop like a balloon, replaced by tinnitus. This was a good measure by which she could guess how much her head was going to hurt later on. The truck, for all intents and purposes, was going backwards and passing the vehicles outside in the same fashion. The crowds on the street followed suit. After what felt like minutes, the left turn was undone and they were sitting at a light which had just turned red. Max released her grasp on time and space, awaiting the expectant throbbing in her head. As she came to, Chloe noticed what must have been a bloodied nose immediately and placed a hand on Max’s.

“What happened?” Chloe asked sternly, piercing through the tinnitus.

“Forget the left. When safe, go right and turn in somewhere,” Max ordered, wiping the blood from her nose with her shoulder strap. Already, the headache had taken hold of her.

“Aye aye,” Chloe remarked, taking them down the right side turn. “Where should I go?” There were plenty of places Chloe could possibly finagle the truck in, but Max remembered that she had a map app open on her phone. When Max looked down to the screen, the blip on the map updated to their current location—as did the time at the top. As long as it was in her hand, items like her phone were unaffected by the rewind. The closest place displayed was an apartment complex, and when she glanced up to Chloe’s worried expression and then down the street to the complex’s sign, Max thought the weathered truck would blend in perfectly in this place.

“That apartment complex right here!” Max pointed as Chloe nearly passed the entrance, turning sharply off the road and into unfamiliar territory. The apartment complex was pretty run down but they saw the parking lot, filled to the brim with all sorts of vehicles. If they could actually find a spot, this might work out.

They had driven around the complex for about six minutes before Chloe just parked along the sidewalk at the back of the apartments. Max and Chloe took a few minutes to calm down before hatching the next part of the plan, with the punk lacing her fingers between Max’s and Max fighting the urge to shut down over the painful headache. It didn’t even bother her that Chloe’s hands were clammy from the death grip she had on her steering wheel. It only mattered that her punk was safe.

“They know where we _both_ work,” Chloe stated, her head rolling right against the driver’s seat to look directly into Max’s eyes. The photographer sighed, even as Chloe let out a brittle chuckle. “Max, this makes no fucking sense. Why follow us from work? Does he really not know where we live? What the fuck is he doing following us around? I don’t know if I’m more scared or pissed.”

Max wondered what someone had to gain from tailing them, and so blatantly too. There was nothing covert about a sports car. A hundred questions kept rushing into her mind, like why they wouldn’t simply wait by the apartment for them or cover their tracks. There was no way this person didn’t have the capability or knowledge of where she and Chloe slept at night. “You didn’t recognize the driver, did you?” asked Max, trying to piece together what little clues they had. It wasn’t a pissed off customer taking matters into their own hands if they had been seen at both of the girl’s work places. Either someone from their past really was trying to get at them, or this truly was the Yatagarasu’s handiwork; and if the latter turned out to be the case, there were still too many unknowns for Max to come up with a counter plan.

“No,” Chloe said. “Brown skinned, red muscle car. Was this fucker spying on me when I was with Omar?”

Someone had managed to get Chloe’s number, knew about Max, Chloe’s truck, and now someone _else_ knew both places of employment. It seemed less and less likely that they couldn’t know where they lived at. “Observation. They’re gathering information.” _And mom and dad are put at risk if that’s the case._ Screwing with Chloe was already over the line, but if Max’s parents were put in the crossfire, her fists were going up. “Mom and dad aren’t at the apartment, so they’re safe. I don’t think either of us want to go back tonight.”

“So where do we stay?” Chloe was still shaken by the ordeal, though it was apparent to Max and anyone who had spent ten minutes around Chloe that her trembling was more rage than it was fear. “This is bullshit. You have to call Kristine, this shit’s getting out of hand!” The strawberry blonde’s voice rose with each new sentence, giving Max an injection of anxiety. She didn’t like it when Chloe yelled, and they were running out of options. Max began to undo her seat belt, much to Chloe’s confusion until she reached across the center console, grabbing Chloe by her face and stealing another long kiss. She could feel the woman steady while they shared the moment, until Max sat back down in her seat. Her head felt a tiny bit better, and she knew Chloe needed something to calm her nerves. She only hoped that was enough.

“You are amazing,” Chloe calmly said, trying to erase the smile Max had infected her with. “We still need a place to crash tonight.” Chloe was still right, and they had to come up with a cover story for if the Caulfields ended up visiting the apartment. The good thing was that they had the day off tomorrow, which gave Max more flexibility than she initially thought.

“Wanna visit San Bernardino?” Max inquired, tilting her head toward Chloe. A tiny nod followed by a shallow grin emerged on Chloe’s face.

“Better text Aubrey that we’re just showing up to her dorm room,” Chloe said, blowing air out of her mouth. She took the truck out of neutral and upon reaching the exit back on to the main road, checked both lanes of traffic for their pursuer. Thankfully, they were long gone and Chloe made it to the highway without a single worry.

  


_7:24PM Atmo-Man_

_Just heard from Aubrey You two safe?_

_7:24PM Me_

_Yeah. Nothing’s going on for you?_

_7:26PM Atmo-Man_

_I know why you’d think so but no. No signs of danger here. Stay in touch, alright? I think it’s time you called the Prescott_

_7:27PM Me_

_So everyone’s telling me. She’s just a normal person to you and me. She’ll get hurt if we involve her._

_7:30PM Atmo-Man_

_You aren’t a one woman army Max no matter how much time travel you do. The lady has resources and connections and she’s on our side_

_7:37PM Atmo-Man_

_Max?_

_7:42PM Atmo-Man_

_Just be safe. Hyram and Steph are worrying about you too_

  


The drive from Glendale to Aubrey’s university had been approximately an hour and a half, and on such short notice Max had had to listen in excruciating detail from Aubrey about the route in to her dormitories. The map app on Max’s phone had a conniption trying to route them accordingly, and by the time Chloe understood the sun had set. Max watched the wrought-iron fence as Chloe drove through the gate, with a massive imposing dormitory building that looked more like a middle class condominium. This might have been Max’s future had things gone differently with Blackwell and Arcadia Bay.

Chloe found a parking space toward the middle of the dorm building and at the base of the cement staircase, illuminated by the truck’s headlights was a sight for sore eyes. Seeing the freckled, pale beach blonde in her shorts and buttoned up dress shirt felt like a throwback to last Spring, when Max had saved Aubrey’s ass along with the other two boys. Both Max and Chloe had known Aubrey for a long time, as she had lived in Arcadia Bay for several years before her family had moved away, but neither one of them had seen her becoming a dear friend of theirs over the course of the past year. She had also been one of the first internet friends to learn that they had survived the storm, and kept that a secret. It wasn’t until last year under deadly circumstances that they had been reunited in person. To Max, the beach blonde looked like she hadn’t even aged a day, spare for the fact that she had donned her natural hair color instead of the blue that had once been used to disguise her. Come to think of it, Max noticed what might have been highlights in the woman’s bangs and that Aubrey had decided to grow her hair down past her shoulders for once. She met Max’s eyes like a rabbit in the headlights until Chloe turned off the engine. Aubrey looked surprised, though not exactly unhappy to see them as she ambled toward the truck.

Max grabbed her camera bag and opened the door to the truck, jumping down onto the smooth pavement as Aubrey walked toward her and quickly hugged the brunette. Max’s first thought was to question whether Chloe’s truck would get ticketed or towed for staying in a dorm parking lot overnight, but she hadn’t expected Aubrey to practically glomp her so fast. She tried to return the favor with her own arms, less enthused than her old friend.

“Hey,” Chloe warned, folding her arms with a smirk. “Don’t steal my first mate!”

“Oh yes,” Aubrey teased, letting go of Max and placing her hands on her hips. “That’s been my plan all along, to break up the Pirate Queens. How do you two feel right now?”

“Like I could use a beer,” Chloe replied earnestly, slumping her shoulders. “Today’s been a bag of smashed assholes.”

“I can’t help with the smashed assholes, but you’re in luck for booze.” Aubrey rolled her eyes toward the dormitories while batting her lashes. “Sounds like Hyram’s been rubbing off on you.”

“You wound me,” Chloe quipped while grabbing at her chest. “If anything, I’ve rubbed off on him.”

“Will Chloe’s truck be fine here?” Max asked, gesturing to the rusted up eyesore surrounded by newer models. Aubrey appeared to know exactly what Max was hinting at, raising up a hand while she opened her mouth.

“I brought it with me,” she said, removing what looked like a printed stamp from her pocket. “Place this under your windshield, they’ll think the car’s already been ticketed and no record will exist. I’m a badass, I know.”

While the two girls caught up in their silly way, Max was still taken aback by the expensive school Aubrey was attending. This entire time Max had thought she was at the state college on the other side of town. The funding that this place had could give Blackwell a run for its money. Without question, Max removed the Polaroid camera from her bag and took a picture of the two girls catching up with the lit parking lot and sleek futuristic building as the backdrop. This scene was just too beautiful for her not to savor the moment. While they both jumped from the sudden flash, Chloe snickered and seized Max by one of her hands.

“Come on, hippie!” She began to pull Max playfully along as Aubrey led them up the staircase of the dormitories. It hadn’t even been five minutes, and Chloe was already upbeat and unrelenting, a good change from the haggard punk she had been for the last few days. Max continued to examine Aubrey ahead of Chloe, as it had been such a while since they had seen each other last. The woman had matured in a way Max wasn’t quite sure of yet. She was more confident, more sure of herself than Max had previously seen her act. Beyond that, there was also something really off about the way she had approached the two. Aubrey was always a bit more grown up than the two boys, but there was something entirely different in her now. Maybe it was the pep in her step or the slightly less refined hairstyle, no doubt from the punk’s influence. Perhaps, by the end of the night, Max might figure it out.

Once inside her dorm room, Max was even more impressed. Compared to her cramped little Blackwell room, Aubrey’s dorm had a living room, a bathroom, and two bedrooms which was indicative of a second inhabitant that Aubrey said was fine with the arrangement. She invited them to lounge in the living room while she fetched them some drinks. Chloe opted to use the bathroom, leaving Max alone to take in the décor. It was pretty conventional in nature, with a flatscreen TV perched on an entertainment center facing the wall in front of small couch. There was no dining room table, with a counter top instead running along the outskirts of the kitchen where the living room connected. Observably, Aubrey’s living room wasn’t too different from their own apartment in Glendale.

Aubrey finally sat down at her countertop to join them as Chloe emerged from the bathroom, stretching her arms. The beach blonde offered her a coat rack and Chloe obliged her, one of the first times Max had ever seen Chloe shed her leather jacket in front of anybody but Max herself. In a way, Max thought it showed comfort that her punk had with the criminology major who had taken them in during their time of need. Aubrey asked them to start from the beginning, and so they both did. Max interjected when her commentary was necessary, but she enjoyed letting Chloe handle most of the talking. Since they had last talked directly about the caller, it sounded like Chloe had a suspicion on their identity. Although Aubrey hadn’t heard or met Eliot Hampden, Max had vaguely recalled the story of Rachel Amber’s home and Chloe’s subsequent showdown with the guy that resulted in his suspension from Blackwell. It was plausible that the boy could have developed a grudge against her, if he blamed her for his expulsion from Blackwell or breaking and entering the Amber residence. That didn’t explain why he knew about Max, or where they lived or even if tonight was related. Chloe herself wasn’t sure, but she had started speaking in absolutes. Considering that Chloe had finally convinced Max to watch some Star Wars movies, it took great strength for Max not to remind her that only a Sith dealt in absolutes.

“You know what my first reaction is,” Aubrey conceded as Max and Chloe shook their heads in agreement. “You need to contact the police, and longer you sit on it, the harder it will get.”

“He called from a blocked number,” Max clarified. “Can the police even trace a blocked number?”

“Yes,” Chloe answered for Aubrey, who had a surprised but proud curled lip. She continued sipping the can of beer in her hands voraciously. “It’s twenty-sixteen. Of course they can, and if I’m right about it being incel boy, then we have a possible name to put with the report.” Max put a hand on Chloe’s lap, wishing she’d slow down her alcohol consumption so that she wouldn’t be miserable in the morning. The topic of Eliot Hampden wasn’t really one that bothered the punk anymore, at least from what Max had seen. Far worse trauma had replaced that memory, hence why it took her so long to even recall the old stalker’s face. Chloe clumsily tilted her head down to Max and whispered a word that she couldn’t quite hear. _At least you’re taking a break, you drunk._

“If the call was longer than ten seconds,” Aubrey paused, watching Chloe’s eyes pull off of Max to her and nod, “then all they’d need is a court order to do it.” Aubrey was definitely the law expert in their group, though Chloe had done a lot of 2AM research on various topics. Max was more resigned to crime and detective novels, although Aubrey wasn’t a stranger to reading either. They had been called ‘bookworm duo’ numerous times by Chloe.

Something else to note was that Aubrey was drinking wine instead of beer, a step up from when Chloe had broken her straightedge streak. She could also handle her alcohol without becoming a ball of insanity. _Chloe called her a candy ass, whatever that meant._ Aubrey began to drink the entire glass of wine, as if reading Max’s thoughts. The beach blonde’s consumption elicited a ‘wow’ from the perked up Chloe.

“Not so candy now, are you?” Chloe remarked. Suddenly, Max felt as if her thoughts _were_ being heard by someone in the room. The blonde shrugged, placing her empty wine glass on the counter behind her.

“The wine was. You two are welcome to stay as long as you need. Until you feel safe,” the beach blonde promised, tapping her feet at random against the tiled floor. “I’ve got board games, cable, a delivery directory if you get hungry. This is the first time we’ve hung out in forever.”

“And it’s still due to circumstance,” Max scoffed. “Are we destined to never have a normal friendship?”

“Our friendship is normal. It’s _you_ who’s special, Max,” Aubrey insisted, laying an arm across the counter. Max couldn’t argue with that, she supposed.

“Hey Max,” Chloe casually said. “You told your parents we won’t be coming home for the night, right?”

“I did,” Max confirmed quietly. “They’re safe.”

“Then it’s time you get on calling Kris,” Chloe firmly told her. “Don’t put it off anymore. You wanted to do this days ago.”

“She can’t do what I do, or what Connor can do. She’s just another person who could get killed in this,” Max protested. “I don’t want to involve her.”

“She’s been involved in this long before you were,” Aubrey corrected her. “She wants to be part of this, Max. She wants to help, and she’s going after the Yata—Ya—whatever the hell—”

“Say it with me,” Chloe narrowed her eyes with a grin. “Time. Prick.”

“Time Prick?” Aubrey parroted. “I guess. Max, Kristine Prescott’s been after this person for a long time. You aren’t endangering her life by keeping her updated.”

“I suppose you’re both right,” Max groaned, resting the back of her head on the top of the couch. “It’s not just that. It’s the fact that she’s Nathan’s older sister. If she knew the truth about her brother, or what happened to Arcadia Bay, I don’t know if she’d be my ally anymore.” Another suspicion that had grown exponentially since the red car earlier in the day was the idea that this person pursuing them wasn’t an angry Arcadia Bay resident or working for a malevolent time traveler. If they had been testing Max, gathering data on her, then it was possible this was a person who knew _what_ she was. Somebody who might refer to people with special powers as jargon like ‘ _Artemis_ ’ could also be after them, which made calling Kristine even more urgent.

“We kept your powers secret from her,” Aubrey affirmed, crossing one leg over the other. “And her goons couldn’t even catch a wackjob hiding in the woods without our help.” _Except that one of them was smart enough to know I wasn’t normal. I learned the word Artemis from her._ “If it helps, you can call her right here.”

“You won’t be talking to her,” Max complained.

“No, but we’ll be giving you the moral support to do it,” Chloe leaned over and wrapped her arms around the timid brunette. “You’ll be fine, Max. Okay? Just tell her everything that you feel comfortable with. She might know something we don’t about incel boy and our tail.” Max felt the taller woman’s warm breath on her neck, followed by a peck. There was no question that they were right. If Max kept putting this off, she was ruining a chance to at least check in on the woman who had gone radio silent for too long. With a name like Prescott, it was plausible she was simply busy rebranding her family’s stained legacy into something altruistic, but she had always committed to calling every month to see how Max and Chloe were doing.

“Before I do it, I need to ask you how Connor’s holding up.” Chloe had rested her head on Max’s shoulder, keeping her arms loosely wrapped around Max’s, but she seemed to turn her head to hear the conversation about to unfold. Max glared over to Aubrey, who opted to stare past her to the wall. She ran a finger along the top of her empty wine glass, perhaps contemplating that more was needed to have this talk.

“Aside from having to temper his ability to change the weather at will? He’s having family problems. His grandmother just died. His grades are slipping and there’s some kind of toxic dynamic between him and his boss.” Already, two of those things were something he had never mentioned to Max. In a way, it frustrated her that he couldn’t simply talk to her about the normal things as if they weren’t worth talking about. Did Connor truly believe his problems weren’t worth discussing?

“I’ve been trying to get him to open up, but I suck at it. I’m so far away, I don’t know what I can do for him.” Max admitted, guilt washing over her conscience.

“I had the same concern. It’s why I asked Steph to keep an eye on him since she’s living in Orlando,” Aubrey revealed. Max knew that Steph had engaged their friends online but didn’t anticipate that she’d actually gotten cozy with them. Steph was that kind of person; geeky and charismatic, yet somehow quiet when seen in person. Max had her to thank for an interest in tabletop gaming, as it was something Chloe and Steph refused to let her go without doing last Christmas Eve. Go figure that her online persona would be more open and vocal. It was nice to hear someone else talk about Chloe during the time she and Max had been separated, and Max even learned a great deal about Rachel Amber from letting the auburn-haired geek talk.

“When did you and Steph start talking?” asked Chloe out of nowhere. Max supposed she had never really explained it either, and even that felt a bit funny considering Steph had been Chloe’s friend originally. The nerd just got around.

“She just added me one day after I commented on someone’s post, and we kicked it off from there,” Aubrey said with a huge smile. “She’s pretty awesome.” Chloe gradually looked up and Max met her gaze, the two of them wondering the same thing: did Aubrey know how into girls Steph was? They had watched this unfold once already, and Steph was quite a smooth talker when she wanted to be. Last Max checked, Aubrey wasn’t exactly attracted to women, but bringing that up right now felt out of place. “She’s also super fucking helpful when it comes to studying. Even got me into some obscure hacker stuff I never thought I’d be interested in. She just sent me a text file with all these animes I’ve never even heard of.”

“Fuckin’ weebs,” Chloe remarked, releasing Max and fetching another unopened can of beer resting on the floor. Max saw her pause, then shake her head wildly. “Fuck, I left the bud at the apartment. That right there would’ve been the perfect nerve calmer.”

“I know somebody on campus who might help, and they do house calls,” Aubrey replied slyly to the now attentive Chloe.

“Damn Snyders, I have been such a bad influence on you,” Chloe stated.

“I never said _I_ smoked, you presumptuous ass,” Aubrey laughed. To this, Max stood up from the couch and turned to face the front door.

“I’m going to go make the phone call,” Max declared. “Get this over with.”

“Alright, yeah!” Chloe shouted, earning a glare from Aubrey to quiet down. “Love you, kick ass Max.”

Max leaned against the railing outside of the dorm room, checking the area to ensure nobody was listening in on her. It wasn’t like anybody around here would even believe her if she spoke freely on certain subjects. If she exposed someone to the sacred knowledge, she could always undo it with one thought. She brought the phone to her ear as it rang, bracing herself for the feminine voice of the last remaining Prescott heir. It took at least six rings before somebody picked up the phone, and the expectant woman greeted Max.

“Hi, Miss Caulfield. Er, sorry. Max. Hi Max,” the woman harshly corrected herself as if she had been a nervous wreck. “It’s been a while since I checked in, hasn’t it? I’m sorry.” Max took a deep breath.

“I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to you, Kris.” Max exercised using the woman’s preferred nickname. “Yeah, I haven’t heard from you in a hot minute.”

“It’s been a shitstorm, really. I’ve had a lot on my plate,” Kristine Prescott told her. “How are you?”

“Hiding out somewhere,” Max said slowly. “We’ve had a few problems.”

“What kind of problems?” Kris asked excitedly. “Yatagarasu problems?”

“I don’t know yet,” Max answered her candidly. “Somebody called Chloe and threatened her, using a bunch of personal information. They said we were going to pay for what we’ve done. And then today, somebody in a red car who looked middle eastern tried following us home from work.” She hadn’t meant to drop it all in one single thought, but if she hadn’t she would’ve beaten around the bush.

“But you two are okay,” Kristine said, her connection sounding fairly shoddy for a few seconds. “Right?”

“Right,” Max replied. “I wasn’t sure if there was anything you could do, but I was also getting really worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I wish I could say the same for you guys and everyone else,” Kristine morbidly said, confusing Max with her choice of words. _What do you mean ‘everyone else?’_ Did someone get hurt after all?

“What happened?” Max questioned, beginning to feel the tension from earlier in the day return to her hand, now trembling at the thought that Kristine was, in fact, going through the same thing that she and Chloe were.

“Do you remember my associates, Mr. Hugo Wright and Ms. Leanne Southgate?” Kristine’s voice grew shaky as she mentioned the two detectives that had both saved Max and complicated her encounter with the Yatagarasu last year. Dread flooded into Max’s mind, threatening to spill out everywhere.

“What about them?” asked Max.

“Mr. Wright was killed,” Kristine said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We met on the beat beat only ones alive  
> Left here to be the only ones to live as lovers  
> Trying to move slow but we're so liquored up  
> Rolling with the wind like a dusty old pick up truck
> 
> Not what I did


	4. Liberosis

#  **Chapter Three: Liberosis**

**_Sunday, March 20_ ** **_th_ ** **_2016, 6:22PM_ **

The weather was humid, as one would expect from the Sunshine State. Connor’s eyes wandered around the sparse highway, noting the spruce pines and acacias dotting the perimeter fence just yards away from the edge of the road. So much of Florida was left untouched while the rest of the state was packed tightly. In a way, he found it responsible; with so much nature south of Orlando, the space center to the southeast, and a national forest to the northwest, Florida was actually pretty conserved compared to most large states with bloating cities. Here, living space was so confined, surrounded by everglade and forest land.

The young man observed a red box truck merge into his lane, the slow zone. He would be getting off on an exit soon, where his plans for the night would finally begin. The work day had been unbearably long and he was looking forward to letting loose for the first time in what felt like months. He couldn’t remember the last time he could enjoy life without worrying about something horrible.

“I’m glad you’re getting along with Steph,” Aubrey’s voice, although slightly digitized, emerged from his car speakers. For a few moments, Connor’s thoughts had drifted away from the Bluetooth conversation he was having with his best friend.

“Me too,” Connor replied, a grin resting on his face. “I want to put her, Hyram, and Chloe in a room together and watch how crazy stuff gets.” It helped that Steph was taking a few classes at his college, and the fact that she had so easily engaged with him and his friends through the internet. Ever since meeting up with the auburn digital design artist, Connor’s life had slightly improved. He wasn’t as lonely and she was the type of person to actively make plans, even when he wasn’t feeling up to it. She was a true gem, like Aubrey and the whole gang really.

“What about work?” she inquired. “Was it any better today?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Connor lied. “The Director can go somewhere hot and fiery.” His director’s idea of reward for kicking a drunk and disorderly customer off property with the police involved was a reprimand.  _ AKA, doing the fucking job I was paid to do. At least my supervisor is on my side.  _ There was simply no salvaging the working relationship he had with his, if Connor were to be honest, horrible boss. He had decided to simply leave it as a working relationship, only engaging the man when required to. Otherwise, Connor would stay as far away from him while he was on patrol. To top it off, of course, the customer who was criminally trespassed a few days back filed a complaint. He hoped he never had to deal with that dick again.

“What about food? Your fridge stocked, are you eating and drinking enough?” she continued, making Connor laugh softly. This girl had been trying to take care of him since the day they had met in a high school English class, and he was glad she stuck around even if she couldn’t really be there for him. _ That isn’t her fault, and I need to knock this shit off. _ Aubrey didn’t deserve it, after all. She was trying her best, and Connor was depressed. He needed her to know the support was welcome.

Connor sighed into the phone, hearing an audible one on her end in return. Sometimes, he still felt alone while surrounded by people constantly asking him if he was okay. They always asked of course, but hardly did it go farther than that. These people could be talking, but they weren’t always listening. What he needed to remember was that Aubrey and those closest to him weren’t those kind of people, and they simply had problems of their own going on. “I could ask about your hobbies and if your apartment is clean too, y’know.”

“My apartment is fine. I’ve stopped going to fencing because I wanted to put my cash somewhere else,” he told her, thinking about how he missed the swordplay. It was one of the only sports he enjoyed playing and watching. “You know, I _ do  _ have a mother for this sort of thing.” 

“You and her don’t talk,” Aubrey stated, as if it were a commonly referred fact.  _ Why does she have to learn everything so well? I swear, she’s just good at getting me to talk and talk. _ “You’ll thank me one day, you butthole. You aren’t doing too hot and that upsets me. I want to be there to hug and help.”

“The feeling is mutual, Aub,” he replied, his mood shifting from upbeat to melancholy. “I really wish I had gotten to see you two this break like last year. Minus, you know. All the time travel shit.”

“Hyram’s buried in pharmacy school and I simply don’t have the money or schedule right now. I’m sorry, Connor.” Sure, it hurt not to see two of perhaps three people who really understood him, but he felt too demanding. He wouldn’t make her feel bad for anything that was out of her hands. Hyram had really disappeared lately, in part because of his school work but Connor had to ponder whether there was anything going on. He felt like Hyram would tell them if something was wrong. That was just how they had rolled for so long, ever since their first fight in an elementary school cafeteria.

“It’s fine, I promise. I don’t really have the money either,” Connor admitted. Although, that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to make bad financial decisions to see people he cared about. The trip last year was exactly that, dropping cash on a plane flight to visit the ruins of Arcadia Bay for Spring Break. This year though, it seemed that everyone was too preoccupied for a meetup. Aubrey was calling from campus rather than her home at this time of the year, after all.

“What about new and interesting people?” Aubrey sounded like she was humming, but Connor couldn’t be sure. He recalled the numerous people he had met through school and work, and none of them really stuck around as friends or even acquaintances. It was doubly worse with work, as he was tired of his friendly gestures being misconstrued as unprofessional. _ One part of my life, I’m not interesting. The other part of my life, I’m seen as a pest _ . 

“Aside from Steph and the usual friends? Sure, I’ve met plenty of classmates,” he trodded lightly into the subject, knowing the beach blonde on the other end of the call wouldn’t be satisfied with just that. The ‘plenty of classmates’ weren’t quite friends, but they weren’t quite just classmates. He had no idea, and he huffed over the realization that he didn’t exactly know who his friends in Florida were.

“Anybody worth bragging about?” Aubrey pushed further, her curiosity abundant. Once again, Connor sighed with a grin on his face. He couldn’t feel annoyed her interest in his personal life, because he honestly needed the support. Bombarding him with questions was better than never asking them to begin with. On the subject, though, he wasn’t jumping with joy to discuss it. Even when it came to just men, they acted as if they weren’t looking for friends. He had always struggled maintaining relationships with other guys, and it was a problem that had really blossomed once Aubrey’s now-ex boyfriend had tried to shove a wedge between him, her and Hyram.

“No. Don’t worry about me, Aub. I’ll make it,” Connor said, more firmly than he had meant to.

“Impossible, I’ll always worry. Now, let’s talk about that picture you sent me earlier,” she said, reminding Connor of the reason why he had called her in the first place. “I see you went urbexing by yourself?” Aubrey might have been ready to scold him, as he had broken one of the biggest rules of urban exploration: never go it alone. 

“Guilty,” Connor deadpanned as he slowed for the box car, a flashing turn signal indicating they were exiting the highway. “But man, let me fucking tell you about it before you get mad! I had to crawl under a fence, get past a camera at the check in building, and then it was just this huge estate on the side of this highway!” Had he not been gripping the steering wheel, he would have definitely been gesturing to Aubrey’s ghost in his car. It truly was that exciting to him. “Every home was some ugly dark color, the path was all overgrown. I mean, you can see it in the pictures—”

“Ironic coming from a security guard! And bible pic,” Aubrey cut to the chase.  _ Oh, of course. Remember, the spook is all in your head.  _ Connor was eager to share the whole story, given the fact that he, Aubrey and Hyram had run a web series exploring creepy abandoned places, but she wanted to jump straight to the most disturbing aspect. Connor recalled walking into the musty, dilapidated building where the wooden floors were rotting away and the ceiling had damn near caved in. On a staircase ledge, right underneath a massive hole in the ceiling, was an open bible with its pages forced open by erosion and weather. When he had initially stumbled upon that sight, the darkness crawling down from above, he had been worried he was about to open a portal to Hell. When he had seen it, he had immediately thought of Friedrich Nietzsche’s famous quote about staring into an abyss. Connor grew chilly, the hair on his arms sticking up as he remembered how invigorating the sight had been. _ Philosophy hasn’t been a wasted elective after all. _

“What about it?” Connor asked carelessly about the picture he had snapped. He wasn’t one to buy in to religion, personally. After all, with the way he could break the laws of the universe and Max being a demigod, it would take a lot of convincing to bring him back. There was also the issue of that ‘Oracle’ that Hugh Olhouser had once spoken of, and the Yatagarasu—who remained as elusive as always. Mix that in with all the world’s tragedies, and Connor had to ask: what kind of God would be content with chaos such as this?

“The opened pages, do you know what they mean?” the beach blonde asked, almost with caution.

“No. What?” Connor inquired, incredulously. “Am I part of some prophecy now?” It wouldn’t be too unbelievable considering the past year and change.  _ Maybe it  _ was _ the Oracle again! _

“Matthew seven-fifteen _. _ Honestly, fifteen to twenty creep me the fuck out,” she stated grimly. “I’m only slightly worried about you, but still. Even outside of superstition, this looks bad.” With the pages ruined and the letters smudged beyond legibility, he hadn’t been able to read anything in the open bible. Now that she had begun her bible verse talk, he was hooked. What could be so scary about the most misquoted book in the history of mankind aside from how people used it?

“What did it say?” Connor asked her with curiosity.

Aubrey cleared her throat, as if she had been preparing to tell him regardless of his request. “Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.”

Listening to the damning verses sent another shiver up his arms that traveled across his shoulders and down his back.  _ Did she have a fucking bible handy, or did she just look this up?  _ He wasn’t religious, but all of that was slightly unnerving. It brought another upward curve to his lips, as if it was some weird method to cope with the shot of anxiety he had received. Yes, he was thrilled to be slightly freaked out. “So what, am I destined to meet the Anti-Christ?”

“I don’t know, Connor,” replied Aubrey. “Some people would take this as a bad omen. Just be careful, you hear? You’re not like everyone else.”  _ Thanks. I hate it already. _ It had surprised him on some level that she still held onto religion, even after getting out of her religiously extremist home. While she had always distanced herself from the conservatism her parents had forced upon her—this girl hadn’t even been allowed to watch Pokemon or Harry Potter, ‘cause evolution and witchcraft—she still subscribed to Christianity in her own ways.

“After everything you’ve seen, do you still consider yourself religious?” Connor couldn’t stop himself from what he thought was a fair question, and even if he felt an ounce of regret for challenging Aubrey’s potential worldview, it was too late to backtrack on asking.

“I’m open minded. You know this,” she replied, annoyed. “I’m not a Church girl anymore.” Connor found this answer reasonable and much more polite than he had worded his question. Nodding to himself, he licked his lips.

“Sorry. I’ll be careful, you know it. Now, I need to focus on driving to this hangout,” he said, pressuring her to let him go for the time being. The traffic had picked up just a bit and he needed to keep his eyes peeled.  _ Another reason to leave Florida, the horrible drivers. _

“Connor, I love you. Platonically, but I totally love you. I’m always worrying about you. Have fun with Steph, I’m jelly.” Connor rolled his eyes, her words stinging him like a hot iron. Sometimes, he questioned why things just couldn’t work out the way he wanted, like having his friends close enough to hug. Could they somehow loathe seeing him upset? Is that why they were sometimes vague and unconvincing with him?

Reminders like this made him realize how horrible that line of thought was. In his head, he had so many contradictions going on and so many irrational worries that he thought for an instant that he might crash the car.  _ All it would take is a sharp turn left and… _ _ No, I didn’t mean that _ . Connor’s grasp on the steering wheel tightened, his entire arm stiffening.  _ Why am I fucking like this? Why can’t I just be happy? _ Maybe she couldn’t help it with her school work. Hyram had certainly gone silent for weeks at a time—except to send Connor relatively stupid memes or hyper-partisan news articles. At least now, Max had more of an excuse than the others with the news about Mr. Wright and Chloe’s…  _ What did Steph call it? Her ‘Eliot’ problem? Probably that. _

“I love you too Aubrey,” Connor said heavily after regaining composure, reaching for the dashboard where his phone case magnetically held the phone in place. He also  _ meant _ it, no matter how much conflict raged on at the front of his brain. With a simple swipe, he ended the call. Connor was tired of it all, really. Nearly being used to bring forth an apocalypse, nearly electrocuting somebody with his powers, having to live with the nightmares left behind by watching his friends die agonizing deaths in another reality. It could have been worse. It could have been far, far worse had it not been for Max, Chloe, or the two detectives, but he could never forget any of it. Once it had ended, his life had only gotten worse. In a lot of ways, Connor felt like he was simply on auto pilot, making it through every day one at a time without any foresight; in other words, he was a drone in a societal hive, waiting for the inevitable attack that he only had one stinger to use—and one life to give.

His eyes darted back to the phone once he noticed a notification come to rest on his screen: a missed call from his mother.  _ There we go, yet another punch to my gut. _ He hadn’t been able to attend his grandmother’s funeral due to school work, his job, and the fact that his family lived on the other side of the country. He had already gotten the ugly sobbing over with last night and he wasn’t going to have a breakdown at the start of what could be a fun night. Go figure that the only time his family had wanted to talk to him in four months was to tell him about his grandma. He swiped the notification away, his eyes returning to the highway ahead.

The urge to text Max, even while driving, was strong. If anybody else needed to be checked up on, it was her more than him. Even though the thought of Mr. Wright’s death returned him to Hyram’s body slumped against the Arcadia Bay laundromat, or Aubrey with her arm blown clean off, he had to remind himself that he had not only gotten through that, but he had also come a long way since then.  _ Don’t let yourself forget that they didn’t die, thanks to Max. You still had to see it, but they’re alive and well. _ Even if nobody was around to appreciate it, he was still a somewhat functional adult. Among other things, he had also come a long way in honing his own abilities. If he wanted to right this instant, he could make the heavens darken and let out a tiny bit of rain.  _ Or a full blown thunderstorm, theoretically _ . He hadn’t quite mastered that just yet. 

“Honestly,” he said aloud, his smile finally twisted into a bitter frown. “Fuck the pervasive memories. Fuck everything. No fucking security tonight. No family, no school, no supernatural crap. Tonight,  _ you _ ’re getting hammered with Steph.” He thought about how often the auburn-haired nerd had gone out with him, which was surprisingly often.  _ Well, often if you count that I leave the apartment maybe once a week. _ The woman could party like a fiend and still wake up at six the next morning like a completely sober adult. He had been striving to find her secret, even wondering if she had secret powers like he and Max.  _ Yes, she has an iron liver. That’s what it is _ .

Finally, Connor pulled off of the claustrophobic Orlando main street, catching just a glimpse of the bar where he would be spending the rest of his Sunday evening. It appeared rather enormous for what he was used to, with the entrance to the building sandwiched between a call center and an insurance office. With how small those two spaces were, it at least implied plenty of room for dancing, playing pool, darts and other shenanigans inside. Once he found a parking spot to pull into, he laid his head back against the car seat. He let out a deep yawn, so ready to slam a pitcher and unwind after eight miles of foot patrol. Connor stared at himself in the mirror, almost piercing his own blue eyes in the reflection. His dark thick hair was neatly combed to his right and slightly gelled to hold it in place. Honestly, it was the best he felt he had looked in a few weeks. That, and he was wearing his stylish red jacket that he never grew tired of having around. _Sure, ignore the fact that it’s like eighty degrees out right now, but that will go down soon enough._ Underneath his partially unzipped jacket was an old Linkin Park t-shirt, accompanying black jeans and his sneakers. Connor dressed how he wanted to feel tonight, so he chose to dress cool.

Connor exited his silver sonata and began walking towards the entrance, remembering something his father had once proudly said to him about time for play and time for work; his father believed them to be equally important, so make time for both and with tomorrow a day off and hardly any school work, Connor was making  _ plenty _ of play time today. 

Outside the front doors, a bouncer idled against the cement wall where he ostensibly checked IDs. Connor wondered if the place had a card scanner and whether it was broken, but nevertheless after an awkward greeting and ID check he was buzzed through the double doors and into a dark, loud club. It was definitely a new scene for him, and it was even a stretch for him to consider it Steph’s comfort zone. There were random splashes of light everywhere, deafening surround sound and at least eight tables of pool spread out across the bar. At the back of the enormous establishment were rows of dartboards, where drunken patrons attempted to best one another as they completely missed their targets, and a dance floor .  _ Alright, I’ll admit this place looks bitchin’. _ Connor walked down the aisle accented by the tall tables that ran along its edges, intent on spotting out Steph in this place. It was a Sunday afternoon and soon to be evening, so he was pleasantly surprised to see how many people were jamming out in here. 

In his search to locate Steph, he saw many people that he thought looked vaguely familiar and ones he had never seen before. As he approached a pillar in the middle of the aisle, he looked to his left to survey more of the pool tables. Sitting at the corner of the building was somebody that made Connor stop in his tracks. It was the dick he had trespassed from his job, child molester mustache and all! Just like the day he had been kicked off property, the man whose name escaped Connor looked beyond drunk and intolerable.

He had no intention of dealing with that shit again and rushed himself around the pillar. Nothing was ruining tonight, most  _ especially _ not a reminder of his thankless job. When he came to rest facing the front of the bar, taking in the blue and green hues from the mood lighting above, he finally saw just the person he was looking for at the far right next to a cigar cabinet.  _ The bar itself is pretty crowded, I nearly missed her face.  _ Steph had seen him long before he had seen her, as she beckoned him over with two fingers while bringing a glass of amber beer to her lips. The way she lifted her arm and hugged the edge of the bar prompted Connor to wonder what kind of day she had had. 

When he sat down next to her, he noticed she wore her cherished dragon necklace and that old gray beanie with a fireball patch on rested the counter next to her pitcher. Had it been Steph that inspired Chloe to dawn her iconic skullcap? She was wearing a collared button up shirt, which was totally out of character for her. He had previously only seen her wear gaming shirts and other themed clothing, never business casual.  _ I suppose that means she worked today _ .

“You look exhausted,” Connor told her, settling into the bar stool beside her. Steph’s eyes darted from her pitcher to him, as if contemplating her response. “You worked today?”

“So do you,” Steph commented about his wearied face, nonplussed. “Yeah, had a ton of clients today, including some local soda company I can’t pronounce the name of. It’s easy but tedious stuff. Trying not to check my phone for a reason.” _ Sounds about right, she’s a freelance professional _ . Aubrey mentioned once that she had gotten certified to work with image editing programs, but he didn’t know that was most of her job until a few weeks back. He had suspected she worked at a desk, not wherever she wanted. She lifted her free hand into the air, giving a courteous smile as he adjusted his clothing. “What’s with your jacket? Aren’t you hot as hell wearing something so heavy?”

“I think you doth protest too much,” he told her, wagging his finger at her beanie. Her face lightened up despite propping an elbow on the counter to lean on. “Besides, I was trying to look the opposite of exhausted!” The brunette threw his hands behind his head, casually checking to ensure nobody was behind him.

“What are you feeling?” Steph asked him. 

“Something fruity,” Connor said without a moment of contemplation. “I feel like being adventurous tonight.” The other truth was that he was tired of sour-tasting light beer. The bartender who had happened to storm by as he spoke turned around and leaned across the table, rag in hand. They listed off their specials and drafts, and Connor decided to try something with citrus and requested a pitcher of it from their tap. The weather manipulator slumped his shoulders and placed his arms on the bar, feeling a moment of low energy coming over him. Maybe he was just getting a bit too excited to have the first drink in several weeks, or maybe he finally felt comfortable. Coworkers at his job had mentioned that recently he had become very standoffish and tense. There was plenty of truth to that the more he thought about it.

Out of the blue, Steph finally began to talk. “Before we debate and talk about nothing for the next six hours, I need to ask you something kind of random.” She had taken an unexpectedly serious tone, so Connor sat up straight in anticipation. _ Hitting me with the hard stuff first, huh. _

“Okay,” Connor agreed. Internally, he wanted to chuckle at the thought of venting after they had said they were going to avoid stressful subjects for just this night. But fuck it, right? They were unwinding, there was nothing wrong with talking about their strife.

“Its about Aubrey,” Steph said after a few seconds of silence. “We’ve been talking nonstop. Like every day. She’s a lot of fun, but I don’t quite understand some things about her.” Connor tilted his head and scrunched his lips. What was Steph trying to talk to him about regarding Aubrey? “I don’t want to just ask her, so can you tell me whether she’s into girls or not?”  _ H-h-old on, WHAT? _ An instant reaction hit him in the pit of his stomach, and he began to laugh horrendously. Several hilarious memories hit him all at once, and even though he recovered and shut his mouth the damage had already been done. Steph scoffed as he opened his eyes to look back at her, quickly putting his hands up in apology.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear to god!” he tried to explain. “I had to tell Aubrey what favoring the flatter shoe meant one time, so this feels a little ironic.” To this, Steph furrowed her brows with a dismissive look of her own. Ostensibly, this was probably a touchy subject and he needed to dial it down a notch and approach it with more tact. In retrospect, it seemed clear to him now that they might have been flirting over the past few months, knowingly or not. “To be honest, she’s never even brought it up as an issue. I’m not really sure if she likes chicks, but she isn’t the type to lead you on.” It wasn’t that shocking at all to imagine Steph finding Aubrey attractive, but asking him for advice? Something felt off about that, unless she meant she was actually  _ into _ Aubrey. The artist’s face was one of disappointment, perhaps expecting more from Connor than he had been able to give her.

“That’s kinda why I came to you?” emphasized Steph with her hand. “She’s giving me mixed signals. Sometimes I think she knows, and sometimes… I don’t know. I’m not going to do anything until I know. It’s really the religion and some other things that make me second guess.” Aubrey was a very agreeable person these days, and she had even admitted to him she wasn’t that big into religion anymore. Connor could only wonder what the hell would make the topic difficult for Steph to tackle; the _ same _ Steph whose tongue was sometimes sharper than Chloe’s. When he thought about it though, he could see Steph and Aubrey together. She wasn’t the first person he’d thought of, but they fit together nicely. Steph might have been a bit too much of a partier, but that was merely his opinion.

“Steph,” Connor mused. “Be direct. Good god, I’ve never seen you act this way about a crush. You’ve never had a problem being assertive before, have you?” He watched her eyes travel back down to her pitcher as the bartender returned with Connor’s. He warmed up at the sight of the orange nectar waiting for his consumption. The bartender placed his glass down and poured the first cup for him with a smile, eliciting a ‘thank you’ from Connor. 

“I don’t know why she’s got me this way,” Steph confessed, but only for a few moments. She straightened up, brushing a lock of hair away from her face that had fallen over. “You’re right though, I got this.” Connor understood that even if it was a crush, they had some obstacles to overcome. Steph was in Florida and Aubrey was in California. Long distance relationships weren’t impossible, but they were tough.  _ Plus the Christian stuff _ . “Thanks for letting me mope. You ready to avoid crippling millennial problems for the rest of the night?”

“Yes,” Connor said excitedly, picking up his beer and offering a toast. She lifted her own and clanked their glasses together. “Also, I want you to know I approve.”

“Approve of what?” inquired the digital design artist as she gulped down some of her beer.

“Of you and Aubrey,” Connor confirmed gracefully. Steph opened her mouth as if to object, but she didn’t say a word. Connor smiled for a few seconds before she finally addressed him.

“Thanks, as if I needed your approval,” Steph slowly stated, her tone serious. “Who knows what’s going to happen there? I just wanted to know I wasn’t entirely wasting my time. She’s fun, though.” He thought he understood, that Steph was feeling unsure of herself combined with the unknown feelings Aubrey might or might not harbor. Unless of course she wasn’t super serious about it. In that case, he’d be concerned. They needed to talk to each other, and with Steph that would hopefully come as soon as possible.

It had been a good start to the night. As the next hour unfolded, he and Steph went back and forth on the most random of topics. Oftentimes, Steph would land on her shared past with Max, Chloe and others. Unlike those two, Aubrey had never met Steph when she had lived in Arcadia Bay. Steph chalked it up to different schools and kept on going while Connor occasionally asked her questions. She had mentioned somebody named Mikey at least four times, and his interest was slowly piquing. By this time, Steph had begun exhibiting the usual symptoms of being seriously drunk, like having slowed reactions, and Connor would soon be right there with her. He had already torn through his pitcher, finding the fruity beer absolutely fantastic. The woman beside him had held her own, downing three cups of her own from the pitcher. Connor thought it was a good time to start coasting on the intoxication and give the drinks a rest, despite how young the night was.

He cocked his head back, using the bar top as leverage while Aubrey continued to go on about the first time she had officially met Max. The artist was one-hundred percent behind Max and Chloe’s relationship, talking about how much they complemented one another. Max had apparently gotten along rather well with Steph, considering their mutual interests and similarly-minded tastes in entertainment. Watching Steph fawn over the idea of Max and Chloe, Connor wanted to bring up something he had been thinking about since they had started the conversation.

“Remember when you ranted about shippings and toxic fandoms?” asked Connor, getting a nod from the loose woman about a conversation from long before this social call. “You came up with a name for Max and Chloe’s ship?”

“Caulprice,” Steph blurted over the bar’s booming music, squinting her eyes in frustration. Immediately, Connor scoffed in revulsion.  _ That rolls off the tongue about as well as sandpaper. _

“Nevermind. Work on it,” the urban explorer told Steph. Although that amalgamation came off rough, he had a bright idea for one of his own. “Hey, I got one for you: Aubrich!”

“No!” Steph coughed into her glass, until she began to dry heave. He nearly reached over to pat her on the back, realizing he had said it right as she had downed another gulp. In his mind, he knew he couldn’t laugh but god, did he want to laugh. Tonight had been such a relief so far compared to the last two weeks.

“We’re never discussing Superwholock again,” Steph said.  _ I like only one of those anyway. _ Out of all the TV shows Steph did like to talk about, those three were the  _ only  _ ones that Connor could even speak about to other people. She liked to say she was converting him, though to what or why she thought he needed conversion he didn’t know.

“Alright nerd, how about you tell me something about…” he let his mind wander through all the topics he thought Steph could dive right into, and immediately found the most fitting of them all. “Your tabletops. Since you apparently can’t stop trying to get Max and Aubrey to try it out. I’m heartbroken you haven’t done it to me.” He had wondered many times why she never thought to talk to him about it as it was one of those games he had wanted to try eventually.  _ Doesn’t help that she and Hyram might be the only people interested in it. _

Steph looked up to the ceiling where the mood lighting shined down upon them, thinking on the subject. “ _ Tabletop _ is just the type of game. There are quite a few, so there’s a lot that I could say. There’s a group I play with on campus, occasionally the comic store across the street. I was into it a lot more when I was younger.”

“Oh?” Connor was indeed curious about this, and decided to bring up the name she had continued to mention. “Is this where you finally tell me who Mikey is?” No sooner than he had asked about Mikey, the surround sound music turned into something of an abomination—noise Connor would call horrible rap music, unlike the classics of the 2000’s. His cringing face brought a curled lip to Steph’s, though she was unfazed. 

“Mikey was a dude who went to Blackwell with Chloe and I,” Steph revealed. “Chloe called him the captain of my fan club but if anyone had dared to mess with him, his older brother would’ve kicked their ass. Football player and all. He had to move away because of the school’s curriculum shakeup and the Prescotts.” The digital design artist stuck her tongue out in disgust as the mention of the Prescotts. Steph hadn’t a clue about Kristine or her efforts to do something good with the Prescott Foundation. _ I hope she’s doing alright _ . “Mikey started off just playing a session with me, but he became a serious bro. He didn’t take the news that I was a lesbian hard.”

“Thanks,” Connor said, taking advantage of her pause in speech. Steph shook her head as if apologizing to him.

“No no,” Steph insisted. “I can’t believe I’ve never told you about Mikey North. He’s a cool dude, we still keep in touch. He’s in New York now.” She paused again, and Connor watched the woman’s fingers trace the top of her beer glass. It wasn’t chilled anymore, and nearly empty as was her pitcher. Hopefully, she would give it a rest as he had. “Then Chloe got in on our games. We had this girl named Brooke Scott join in, and then Rachel Amber, but you know how that story goes.”

“Those two?” Connor probed, before answering with an “Oh.” Obviously, Brooke and Rachel had perished. _ Is that another name Max wouldn’t want to hear? Brooke? _ The topic of Rachel was hard to resist, but the conversation had grown somewhat tense. They had pledged to avoid stressful talk, so Connor stretched his arms as much as he could with the crowd of strangers around, taking a wide look at the massive bar. Toward the corner of the room was a pool table open and ready for business, and Connor hadn’t come all this way not to play a few rounds of pool with the auburn-haired woman. Connor turned back to Steph, who appeared to be impatiently awaiting his reply to her story, and gestured to the open table. Steph waved it off immediately, forming a faint grin on her lips.

“Too inebriated to play,” she said.

“That’s exactly when you’re supposed to play,” Connor insisted, exaggerating a sigh and dropping his hands onto the bar. He really wanted to play pool and she had promised, so he wasn’t leaving until one game was played, at the least.

“Maybe when I sober up a bit,” Steph remarked, propping herself up with one arm. 

Under his breath, Connor feigned a cough and called her a pussy. When her brows scrunched up and she started staring daggers into his soul, he shrugged his shoulders. He was just having fun, since she wouldn’t do it with him.

“Okay,” Connor continued, deciding to keep the chatterbox going. “Tell me about Rachel Amber.” The question surprised her, evidenced by her widened eyes and upright posture. “I didn't picture Rachel to be a D&D type person.”

“Are you joking right now?” Steph shook her head in awe, and Connor returned the gesture. His frown grew the longer she challenged his knowledge on the woman. “You mean  _ Chloe  _ didn’t tell you about her?”

“I wanted to get a second opinion on her,” Connor explained fast. “I don’t think Chloe’s impartial on the matter.”

“And you thought I was?” Steph laughed. “Hot damn, Rachel was into literally everything. The elitists at school hated her so much because she could blend in with any crowd. Everyone was her friend, even the Prescott kid.”  _ Nathan Prescott _ , Connor held back a shiver, remembering clearly the things Max had said about him. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell Steph that Nathan had killed their friend.  _ Nope, that’s better left to Max and Chloe _ . Regardless, Rachel’s charisma added up to everything he had heard about her from Aubrey and Chloe. “That isn’t to say she didn’t have her scary moments. She went  _ off _ on this bitch named Sarah once. I never saw her in the same light ever again.”

“But what was she really like?” he asked, pressing on.

“Everyone wanted a piece of her,” Steph said, nodding as Connor was ready to request clarification. “Exactly how you think, buddy.” The urban explorer pictured Steph googly-eyed over the woman, realizing that her standards had always been high, if that were the case. “It’s really sad what happened to her. I moved away right after it had happened.”  _ Well, that brought the mood down a peg or four. _ Connor groaned at the thought of Rachel’s disappearance and subsequent murder, still feeling quite bottled up with keeping the information to himself. That revelation was not his to give.

“At least she can rest easy,” Connor replied slowly, staring down at his empty beer glass. He received an extremely quiet ‘yes’ from his drinking buddy, prompting him to glare up from the glass to the woman, now spacing out and looking to the entrance behind him.  _ Is she finally at the high point of her drunk? _ “Hey, you ready for another beer?”

“No,” Steph told him, a confusing smile emerging. “We were just talking about foxy ladies, and one walked through the door.” That was enough for Connor to shamelessly rubberneck to his left to spot her. Steph hadn’t even had to point or describe who she was, the person who had just entered the bar practically glowed in the crowd.

The woman was truly a spectacle, her movements nimble and precise. Along with white hair with silver highlights and a piercing visible on her right ear, the first thing Connor noticed was her stunning face; the way the corner of her lip hugged her cheek like a perpetual smirk and eyes scanning the interior, checking out everything as he had when walked through the door. Even from where he sat, he considered that the woman was either level with or taller than him, a turn on he wouldn’t deny. Part of him felt bad for looking her up and down so fast, but Steph had already set him up for this one.  _ It was her fault, damn it _ . This newcomer was not only beyond gorgeous, but way out of both their leagues.

“I suddenly feel sober,” Steph jested.

He looked back at Steph who hadn’t taken her focus off of the snow-haired woman. “Like you’ll get the balls to talk to her.”

“Bet?” Steph asked, clicking her tongue. It was a treat to watch Steph go into game mode, but there was more to his challenge than simply teasing her. Personally, the last thing Connor wanted was to rush head-first into a relationship, where he would either hurt someone else or they would do likewise to him. That was a major factor as to why _ his  _ game was so weak these days, like the insane lack of desire to try anything.  _ Until this second, of course. That’s always how it works, isn’t it? One moment, you’re done. Then you see someone walk in and you decide, ‘I’m ready to ruin my life.’  _ On the other hand, he often felt lonely and loneliness sometimes led to desperation, the most harmful emotion to hold in one’s head. He definitely felt lonely, but whether he was desperate enough to get to know someone, he wasn’t sure.  _ Is it desperation, or do I just want to have fun for once? _

He turned back to watch the foxy newcomer carrying a rack of billiard balls and a cue stick to the open table, and it looked like she was alone.  _ Which means it could still be an open game. Oh yeah _ . Connor began cricking his neck, exhaling raspily. “Welp, it’s been fun but I was promised a game of pool.” He placed his feet on the ground, hopping off of the bar stool when Steph stared at him nervously. 

“What are you doing?” she inquired. 

“Taking a leap of faith,” Connor replied smugly, urging her over with his chin. “Now, you gonna be my wingman or not?”

“Are  _ you _ gonna be  _ my  _ wingman?” she joked, reluctantly grabbing her beanie while leaving behind the empty pitcher and glass. The gray cap with the fireball patch was lightly tucked over her hair, back to the typical style Connor was used to seeing on her.

“I mean, with the ogling you were just doing, and then talking about Aubrey an hour ago…” Connor teased her, although the two-fold meaning had been intentional. It was the nicest way he could remind her not to go too crazy tonight. Steph’s shoulders rose as she rolled her eyes at him. “Knew you wouldn’t make do on it. This one’s on me!” He had hoped she wouldn’t after all. For all the boasting Steph had done with her hookup game, she never seemed to have an actual girlfriend.  _ She’s usually all talk but on this one, I think I’ve given her a fair point. _ She needed to talk to Aubrey before she got carried away. “Puss—”

“You’re right, but I’ll knock that grin off your face if you don’t shut up.” She folded her arms querulously, giving him immense satisfaction that she could barely hold the pose together with her lack of sobriety. “We gonna play pool or not?”  _ Of course _ , he thought. Aside from actually wanting to  _ play  _ some pool, he didn’t want to approach this beautiful woman by himself. No matter how much courage he had, that wasn’t happening.

He began weaving in and around the crowd, noting that it had picked up a lot since he had come through the doors. The dance floor was open and slowly filling up, the ones playing darts seemed far more competent this time around and the music had gone back to something more agreeable for his ears. The snow-haired woman was already setting up the table, placing the rack on the appropriate side of the wooden billiards table with her tongue hanging of her mouth. He noticed that she gripped the cue stick with her left hand.  _ So she’s a lefty too. That makes three of us, counting Chloe.  _

Halfway across the room, the woman lifted her head to stare in his direction until they locked gazes with one another. Connor nearly froze in place, with Steph brushing against his arm. Under the billiard light, Connor thought that the woman at the billiards table had anticipated their arrival. The newcomer restrained a slight upward quirk of her lips as she turned away to focus on setting the table. If she knew he was coming over to get to know her, was the smile a concession or an acceptance of said action? Eye contact was often vulnerability exposed, or an invasive gesture unintended. This could be an awkward moment that he was overthinking, and it might have simply been a courtesy smile. She had had no obligation to smile at him the way she did. Could she just be happy two people were headed her way, so she would have people to play with? His heart and his mind were racing, his confidence embroiled in a battle with his insecurity. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like this was such a good idea. He could already be making the biggest mistake of the night, or even worse. If this worked out and he made a new friend tonight, how long until he hurt her, or she hurt him? How long until she got wrapped up with his curse of a power?

Connor and Steph passed by the last stretch of tables and patrons, and the woman once again looked up from the table. He could see her taking in his appearance, and then Steph’s. She just checked them out, and pressure built up in his chest. _It’s too fucking late to back out of this now, you idiot._ _You’re playing pool with the hot babe. You’re having fun or… what the hell does Hyram say when something gets awkward? Spaghetti falling out of my pockets._

Aside from the newcomer leaned over the table, Connor saw a few random patrons enjoying themselves along the edge of the play area. They would have an audience at least, and that meant he had to show off only a little more than he had planned to already. Up close, he could see that she had a tattoo of sorts running down her upper left arm, just visible under her blouse sleeve. He was correct about her having a few inches on him as well, especially as she bent over the table to line up shots. He could even discern some kind of faint scar running across her jawline, a story he wouldn't dare ask about. One thing was true, she had to be the most unique individual that had walked through that night.

Before he or Steph had a chance to say anything, she said ‘yes’ in their direction. The comment threw him completely off balance. “Yes, to what?” asked Connor, unsure of her overtures. To his right, Steph nearly turned towards him, but remained facing the snow-haired woman.  _ Yup, already awkward as fuck. God damn it.  _

“Yes the table’s open, and I’m ready to destroy anyone who dares,” challenged the cocky newcomer as she stood upright, leaning the cue stick against her shoulder. She quirked her lips once more, this time straight to his face. Connor laughed sarcastically, both to seeing Steph completely locked up in awe of the now-imposing woman they had approached and the fearless woman herself. “That’s if you dare, obviously.”

“Yeah, I think my friend here wants to one-v-one you,” Connor urged Steph, pushing her slightly with his hand. Steph attempted to elbow him while keeping her smile on the two of them, obviously shy about the first impression.

“That’s a joke. My buddy here wanted to play with you and he’s the sober one,” Steph deflected, quickly shooting Connor an angry glare that told him to cease and desist his cheeky attitude. The woman at the table, as Connor noticed, had started staring off to the ceiling with waning interest. He really couldn’t get a beat on her personality or her attitude yet. Was she that unimpressed with their entrance?  _ Oh yeah, I can feel the spaghetti already. _

“It will take two of you to beat me. Maybe,” she posited proudly, shrugging while keeping the cue stick tucked close to her body. “Why not?”

“Connor,” Steph gritted through her teeth. Connor leaned in to the digital design artist so that he would be within earshot. He enjoyed every minute of Steph turned upside down after all the bragging she’d done about her game. “You know I’ve never played pool before, correct?” 

“ _ What, _ ” Connor asked, though it was more a statement of absurdity and shock than it was a question. The auburn-haired woman who could drink him under the table didn’t know how to shoot billiard balls. With how immodest the snow-haired lady was about her skills so far, he felt a little bit of heat on the back of his neck. Sure sure, he would kick Hyram’s ass any time these days, but he had never seen someone so convinced of their superiority. He liked her attitude, probably a bit more than he would let on.  _ Probably more than I should, period. _ “Sure, we can do teams!” Connor exclaimed exasperatedly. “Who’s your second person?”

“Don’t need one,” the stranger stated, extending her hand out to twirl the cue stick. That was something you didn’t do around a bunch of drunks, and even other patrons began to worry as she perfectly rolled the cumbersome stick between her fingers. “I’m solo tonight.” _ Dear god, I hope not by the end of tonight.  _

Once again, the attractive stranger met his eyes but this time, since Connor’s confidence had emerged from hiding, he returned the gesture. For a moment, it seemed as if she was about to ask him a question, but with a hum in her throat she turned and leaned against the table, lifting the cue stick up and lining her shot. He watched the way she positioned her fingers, how she rested the stick between her index and middle, before she struck the cue ball—causing a cascade of balls rolling in all directions. Impressively, she had knocked in three solids and one striped ball in her opening move, breaking the table up better than he had ever seen in his time playing pool.  _ Ouch. That’s either  _ serious _ luck or this woman is  _ serious _ about her skill.  _

The woman scoffed at the table, turning towards Steph and handing the cue stick over to her. As Steph reached out and grabbed it, the stranger came a tad closer to her, one hand reaching up and lightly tugging on Steph’s beanie. Connor furrowed his brows, watching Steph’s smile of stone while the woman whispered something into her ear. Stammering on her initial words, Steph quickly thanked her and twirled towards Connor, her jaw dropping from sheer anxiety.

“Heyo,” Connor said, whispering within earshot. “The fuck did she say to you?” He  _ had  _ to know, the anticipation was too much for one man to bear alone.

“Erm,” Steph snickered, as he witnessed their new friend take a giant sip of beer from her glass at a table nearby. Steph was made speechless, a feat impossible by mere mortals. “She liked my beanie, and that the table was open for any ball.” It hadn’t even been five minutes, and this lady had already taken Steph’s words right out of her mouth and nearly petrified him.

“What’s your names?” the snow-haired woman finally asked, walking back to the table with an enormous grin. She was playing some games tonight, and not all of them involved billiard balls. In fact, Connor had started to believe that she was better at this than he ever would be.

“Steph,” the digital design artist answered meagerly, receiving a nod from the woman.

“Connor,” the urban explorer told the woman, watching her lips purse. 

“My name’s Ren,” she finally revealed. “Not short for anything, just Ren. And every time I win, you two are taking shots with me.”

“We are?” Connor asked sarcastically, having expected the terms of this bet to be slightly less rewarding if they lost.

“You are,” Ren insisted, backing away and bowing out. “Please, Steph. Your shot.” Connor folded his arms, unsure of how bad of an ass kicking they were about to receive. After moving to the other side of the table to take her shot at the white ball, Steph exacerbated his misgivings by lining up her first shot completely and utterly wrong. _ Boy, you weren’t kidding Steph _ . He placed a hand upon his tilted face in embarrassment, unable to watch her miss the shot.

“You new to the game?” he heard Ren ask the digital design artist. He looked up to watch Ren patiently work with Steph over the course of a few minutes on how to properly align the cue stick with her hand, the proper form for hitting the ball and even how to make the cue ball jump; the last bit of instruction Connor also paid attention to, as that was something Hyram had used on him a few times. With more resolve this time, he waited to see Steph line her shot and hit the ball.

The crack of one ball hitting another rang out, and he followed the red three right into the left center pocket. The digital design artist looked to the both of them with a joyous expression before he nodded for her to go again. Steph repeated the motions taught to her by Ren, angling herself appropriately until she struck the cue ball another time. Her beginner’s luck had run out, as she hit a few balls but failed to pocket another. 

“I told you the alcohol wasn’t that much of a crutch,” Connor poked fun at the woman who joined his side of the table, having already passed the cue stick on to the snow-haired Ren.

“So where are you two from?” Ren inquired to Connor and Steph, leaning the stick against her shoulders just as she had before. Connor waited for Steph to answer first, but checked up on her when she said nothing. The artist appeared sick, holding her mouth with closed eyes.

“California,” Connor replied, placing a hand on Steph’s shoulder. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah, I think I need to sit down,” answered Steph, opening her eyes and dropping her hands. “That pitcher is settling weird, methinks.” Ignoring the archaic word she probably picked up from some show she watched, he hummed intuitively at the thought of getting sick over alcohol. He had never had it happen himself, but if Steph felt like she could potentially heave then he wouldn’t blame her for sitting things out. “And I uh, I’m from Arcadia Bay.”

“Arcadia Bay, huh.” Ren brought the cue stick down to the table, tapping it faintly. “Oregon.”

“Yeah,” Connor clarified as Steph sulked over to their table near the wall. “How’d you know?”

“Arcadia Bay changed the world,” she told him, her lips curled into a frown. “It’s a holy grail for conspiracy theorists. Last year, I hear the weather there got all scary, too.”

A jolt hit him in the chest, listening to Ren reference events likely caused by Max and himself last year.  _ This is not what I had in mind for small talk _ . “Yeah, Steph might know more about that.”

“Would I?” Steph said casually, propping her feet against Ren’s empty seat adjacent to her. “I hardly understand how you met Max and Chloe.”

“You mean the two girls that survived the freak storm?” Ren asked, soberly. “I have seen the names come up on the web. I’m really into paranormal things.” That was another reminder that the couple might never live the quiet life he thought they honestly deserved. It was still weird to hear a complete stranger bring them up just like that. “So, does that mean you two are acquainted with them?”

“I went to school with Chloe,” Steph responded, folding her arms and resting her head against the wall. “I left way before the town went nuclear.”

“I met them through an interview,” Connor lied. “We were exploring the wreckage of Arcadia Bay—what was left of it, and that led us to Max and Chloe. Our initial interview subject turned out to be a coke head and irrelevant to the story.”  _ At least one of those statements is truth. _ He wasn’t merely telling a lie to the snow-haired woman, but also to Steph. He had agreed to perpetuate this story to Steph and all of those who knew nothing about Max and Connor’s powers. Naturally, he hated lying to anybody who was starting to become a regular part of his life, but just like Rachel Amber, that was not his revelation to give to Steph. Ren appeared content with this information, quickly twirling back to the table and lifting up her left arm to shoot at the table.

Thirty minutes and two games later, it was worse than an ass kicking. Ren was such an adept at pool that Connor suspected she had to be cheating. Nearly every single turn, the enigmatic woman scored a ball in a pocket. It had done more than made him suspicious; it had made him angry. She swore she wasn’t a professional league player and that it was just a game she played in her spare time but he hadn’t bought that explanation at all. In order to placate the both of them, Ren had followed up on her promise and bought them shots—but only when Steph was sure she could handle more alcohol. In Connor’s opinion, another one had turned out to be one too many, as he had begun to feel a warm, scratchy numbing in his chest. It must have been the beer mixing in because the alcohol was hitting him way too fast. As for his cohort, Steph remained seated at the table, staring at her phone blankly on the table.

Now, even as he had known it would be a waste of time, Connor took his shot at the green battlefield in front of him; Ren was ready to strike the eight-ball, while he had been stuck clearing two solids from the table. He lined up the cue stick with the cue ball, arched his body, leaned in on the edge of the table, calibrating his strike as well as he could while drunk as could be—which  _ absolutely _ wasn’t helping his odds of success. Finally, ready to at least knock the six into a corner pocket, Connor struck the cue ball and watched it barely miss his intended target and instead knock the eight-ball into the right corner pocket. In other words, he not only missed his shot, but he had just lost the entire game for hitting the eight too early. Connor cursed and threw his arms out in protest, annoyed at the raucous laughter coming from Ren. Then, something came out of her mouth that clearly wasn’t English.  _ So, you gonna gloat in another language? So I can’t have a rebuttal? _

“What the hell does that mean?” Connor asked her as she side-eyed him with amusement, taking another sip from the glass she had been neglecting since the start of the match. Behind Ren at the table, it had grown readily apparent Steph had already abandoned all hope of them beating this woman at anything. The auburn-haired nerd had laid her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. The phone she had been staring at was gone, likely back on her person and safe from prying eyes and hands.

“See you later! It’s Japanese,” Ren snapped her fingers hastily, holding the drink steady in her other hand.  _ She sure has her quirks. _ “Its our saying where I come from. I called you a loser.”

“When did you learn Japanese?” Connor asked, intent on chatting her up now that this embarrassing spectacle had once again been ended. When Ren frowned at him and scrunched her brows up, he realized he had fucked up and he really didn’t need anymore shots.  _ And I thought this match was embarrassing. _

“I just look Asian for no reason, right?” Ren began rubbing at her chin, making fun of his tomfoolery.  _ Jesus fucking Christ, Connor.  _ Of course she had _ some _ Asian traits, but that hadn’t been enough for him to presume anything about her heritage. Connor had pinged her as mixed race already, but boy, did he need to stop drinking.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized with a wide unsure grin, running his free hand through his hair out of habit. “Look, I’m not gonna assume someone’s from, just because… you know. Sorry. I’m kind of a dingus.”

“It’s quite okay,” Ren returned, sipping more at her beverage. When it left her lips this time, a smirk was left in its place; the same one that she had given Connor as he had braved his way over to her table earlier, and just like before, his chest sank a little bit.  _ For someone who’s fucking hammered, that’s a whole lot of feeling right there. Maybe I’m not as much of an alcoholic as I thought _ . “You know I’m fooling too. I don’t mind scatterbrain drunks, but I’ve had my fill of pool for now.” She turned and stared across the massive bar, her attention now on the dance floor that went wild with some mainstream pop blasting through the speakers overhead. Connor momentarily stared at the back of her head, observing the dark roots on the top of her scalp, and denied an urge to let his eyes travel farther down the woman’s back. Although, he didn’t need to stare to know she had a nice ass. 

Back at the table, he saw Steph had returned to playing with her phone, her eyes widened as if she were about to furiously type an argument up to someone. Though her behavior was only slightly embellished, she was still inebriated. Connor felt a twinge of worry that she might not be having fun. It had been their night, after all, and for the past half hour they had just raged while Ren lapped up every ounce of their frustration as if it nourished her.

The urban explorer jumped a bit, realizing the cue stick in Ren’s hands had poked him in the chest. His gaze followed the stick to her hands and then up to her face, where the ace pool player awaited his reaction with a risen brow. He grabbed the stick and playfully tugged at it, until he found Ren tugging back. He didn’t have the coordination to hold his ground so he stepped forward, still holding the stick as firmly as he could. She too held it in place, and he had no idea what was going on as he was suddenly inches from her face. Ren had dove straight into this, clearly having been onto him from the start. It wasn’t like he had tried to hide the fact that he thought she was a looker and he had come over to meet up, but pulling him in this way, taunting him to make the first move, was evidence enough that she fancied him back. If they had been any closer, he thought it would be impossible not to let his passions loose. Every reservation he had grappled with was suddenly held hostage by the heat of the moment. With a pounding heart and a severe case of stage fright, Connor realized in that moment that he needed to use the bathroom. Pronto.

His worst fear—or perhaps, something he had anxiously anticipated—was realized as Ren tugged the cue stick ever so slightly back, but instead pulling their lips together, she nudged him even closer to the side of her face. Here, he really felt the height difference as he tilted his head slightly up towards hers.  _ Please god, let me pee first.  _ “I would love it if you joined me on the dance floor,” she whispered into his ear fervently. Ren’s seduction, her body and soul so close to his own even though they were still complete strangers, tossed out every experience, every single relationship he had ever had at any given time. He had come over here to have a good time and play pool with an attractive woman, and now she was reeling him in like a fucking fish on a hook and he felt helpless to even tell her no. For the first time in a year, Connor was in over his head in the most exhilarating way possible. She had even put subtle moves on Steph before she turned her attention entirely on him, and despite knowing nothing except her name, Connor was loving this shit. However, if he pissed his pants, this night was over.

“I-uh, love dancing but I don’t practice and really don’t have a form,” he said back to her, wondering how dumb and sappy the two of them probably looked like to the other people in the bar. He let go of the cue stick and backed up, bumping into the pool table. Ren laughed at him, though her face showed no ill will about it. 

“But you know how to let loose and have fun, right?” She said, beginning to bounce her hips around and roll her shoulders. “You know everyone looks stupid on a dance floor like this. You just gotta stop thinking about it and have fun.”  _ WHY IS SHE SO, GAAAAH _ . He literally couldn’t deny her what she wanted from him.  _ Wonderful time to sit back and mind your business, Steph _ !

“I could be motivated to with those hips,” Connor flirted, as her feet an elbows struck rhythm with one another, her hips shaking gracefully as she inched closer to him. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, she was too damn attractive and he was too drunk to try letting loose before visiting the bathroom. “But first, I need to take a break. I’ve had a lot of alcohol.”

“Oh?” she raised her arms up, giving him much needed space. “I guess we both have been trying a bit too hard tonight, huh?”  _ You fucker, so you read me like a fortune _ .

“In my defense, I’m drunk and I’m pretty sure you aren't.”

“Sure you are,” Ren remarked, already turned toward the table where Steph was seated. “Let me know if you decide to go out there, Connor?”

“Yeah, Connor,” he confirmed for her, watching the snow-haired woman saunter over to the table, finishing off her glass with one final bottoms up. He shook his head, in absolute awe over Ren. If he could say anything after tonight about her, it was that she had a power for persuasion. The worst thing, he still wasn’t sure if she was going with the flow or if she was actually pursuing this, them. Such thoughts would linger all night, he supposed, as he headed off to the bathrooms on the other side of the bar.

In the bathroom, he began splashing his face with water. He wished he could sober up fast before he said or did something really dumb again. He didn’t want to come off as rude, unintelligible, or unintentionally prejudiced in any way as he did with his stupid question.  _ Oh yes, the Japanese woman speaks Japanese. You’re lucky she took no offense _ . In the back of his mind, his nerves were screaming. He still feared that tonight would end up a disaster and he would regret every moment of it. At the front of his thoughts, he remembered how close Ren had been to him, how much discipline it had taken not to reach out and grab hold of her waist and part her lips with his own. Even if he never saw her again after tonight, he would remember this for the rest of his life. She had a venomous charm to her that had captivated him the instant Steph had spotted her out. _ Fuck me dude. It’s been less than an hour since we’ve started knowing each other and I’m already this shaken up. _

Connor looked up at himself in the mirror, seeing his slicked and combed hair, his elegant jacket with the folded collar, epaulets on his shoulder and fake pockets on his breasts. He realized he had to have stuck out just as much as Ren had, and maybe this was all fine and he could stop worrying about every little thing. Connor flexed his smile, cricked his neck and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, letting his head rest on the back of his jacked while he stretched his arms. Now that he was calmed down, he needed to get rid of that water weight he had accumulated. 

While he used the urinal, releasing the uncomfortable pressure built up from holding it in for so long, he heard the door open and somebody trudge into the stall next to him. The thought of another person in the room bothered him just a bit, giving him slight difficulty in letting it all out. He had always wondered if other men experienced this sort of anxiety too, being unable to use the bathroom properly in the presence of others. As he finished, he couldn’t help but notice that the person in the stall hadn’t started peeing or even sat down. On the floor just visible under the stall, he saw them standing perfectly still in front of the stall door.  _ Something isn’t right, here. _

Connor slowly zipped up his pants, pulled down on the urinal lever and let the loud flush mask his light foot steps away from the urinal toward the sink. He saw himself first in the mirror, keeping his eyes on the reflection of the bathroom stall as he moved to turn on the sink and wash his hands one last time. No sooner than he had turned on the faucet did the bathroom stall door open to reveal the pedo-stached alcoholic he had loathed running into.

It was so fast that had the urban explorer not gotten an iffy vibe, he would have been ambushed. The angry man he had trespassed from his job lunged at him. Connor dove down to his left, nearly falling flat onto the tiled floor and kicked up to run for the door. Suddenly, he felt fingers wrap around the back of his jacket collar. Connor threw back both elbows, hitting the asshole right in the gut. He heard the wind knocked straight out of their lips with a whail, but their grip hadn’t relented. They threw Connor into the stall, crashing him down and nearly hit his head on the porcelain seat.

Connor got to his feet, clumsily tired from alcohol exhaustion and a rush of adrenaline coursing through him. Unlike the dickhead before him, though, he knew how to stay a week sober. Hell, this dickhead probably didn’t know how to stay sober for more than a day. He growled and put his fists up, blocking Connor’s only way out of the stall. 

“I watched you have your fun all night, you little fuckin’ toy soldier! You ain’t got a badge to protect you now!” he bellowed, lunging again at the urban explorer. Leveraging himself against the toilet paper dispenser, Connor ducked underneath the man, slamming his shoulder into the asshole’s first punch. The counter pushed the attacker into the front corner of the stall, giving Connor enough time to duck underneath the stall and into the bathroom proper. Standing up as quickly as he possibly could without vomiting, he reached around the front of the stall and yanked back the door before nearly slipping on the tile, hearing the faucet running and abandoned. He gripped the bathroom door handle, pulled it open with excessive force and ran out into the crowd. 

Now that he was back in public where at least hundreds of eyes would be on him, he at least felt safer. A rational person wouldn’t try to attack him here and he had to decide whether to go straight to the bartender, request the police, or just join back up with Steph and his new friend. Surely, this dick would have learned his lesson, even if Connor hadn’t been able to knock a few of his teeth out. He started back towards his friends, getting concerned looks from everyone as he passed them by. As he calmed down, he also felt his face grow incredibly sore and started to realize the disorderly man had got him pretty bad in the jaw. By the time he reached Steph and Ren, they had both jumped up from the table with their expressions glued to his face. Whatever conversation they had been engaged in was no longer relevant.

“What happened to you?” asked Steph as Ren looked past Connor, an indignant frown present. He figured she had pieced it together fairly quickly.

“Damn, am I that ugly?” Connor shot back, rubbing at his face. “I got jumped in the bathroom by that douchecanoe I trespassed for stalking tenants at work. 

“He’s stalking this way,” Ren informed him, gritting her teeth. “I see you got a few licks in before escaping.”

“Did I?” Connor spun around to see the asshole charging straight for them from the bathroom, with bystanders beginning to pay attention. He approached the pool area, and even as a random patron attempted to step in front of him, he pushed them into a table. _We’re about to start a fucking bar fight._ _Welp, you officially fucked the night up, Connor. At least you didn’t zap him_. 

Connor wished so badly that for once, when he actually needed it, he had his collapsible baton handy and not hidden in his driver’s side door cubby. This asshole would think twice about laying hands on him if Connor had the ability to shatter his wrist. This man was not rationally-minded and wanted to pick this fight in front of the crowd. The urban explorer threw up his hands in self defense until somebody stepped in front of him.

Ren, the enigmatic snow-haired woman he had only just met, stood as a bulwark between him and the aggressive man. In her hands she held the cue stick that she had given up only fifteen minutes ago. He immediately feared for her safety, putting a hand on her shoulder. Ren shrugged him off, shooting him the fiercest look she had given him all night. He would’ve been terrified of the fire burning in her irises had he not known what little he did of her. Then again, perhaps he should’ve been afraid. She appeared ready to disarm this man, as he pulled a knife from his pocket and the crowd gasped.

“I’m not hurting you, girl. Gonna hide behind the chink now, huh?” the man spat his vile comment at Connor, hitting a nerve immediately.  _ He’s lucky he’s not getting zapped _ . From his angle, he saw the heavy scowl on Ren’s face, her twitching lip and lined forehead. As it appeared, Ren wasn’t about to tolerate this man’s racist remark either. Then, with lightning speed, Ren jumped into action. Her arms bent and she moved to the side, and Connor watched the cue stick collide with the man’s face. Ren’s entire posture changed, dropped into a combat stance. The crowd gasped louder than before as Connor watched the man stagger backwards and then lunge for Ren this time. The urban explorer knew exactly what he was going for and wanted to shout for her to pull the cue stick back. The man tried to grab hold of the stick—and succeeded, grasping it with one and slashing out with his knife in the other. Ren pulled up on the stick, forcing the man to stumble right into her next attack.  _ No, what are you doing!? _ The knife came so close to the woman’s head, and yet she remained dauntless The urban explorer couldn’t believe what he was witnessing, as Ren turned her back, placed one hand on her fist, and jabbed him in the throat with her elbow. 

The disorderly man let out a guttural rattle, dropping the knife and reaching for his windpipe as Ren quickly jumped into her take down; just like before, it was so fast that Connor thought this was a dream and that she couldn’t possibly be real. The cue stick struck him across the legs with such ferocity that the crack echoed louder than the music. The man cried out in pain and crumpled onto the ground, as someone in the crowd shouted rambunctiously. The end of the pool stick laid far away from the scene, shattered by the blunt force behind the strike.

Ren’s hands shook, her breaths raspy but steady. She gripped the remaining portion of the cue stick like it was somehow a lifeline. Connor wanted to do something to calm her down, but for a second he realized the number of people staring at them: with their phones pointed up or their faces all staring at the man who was on the floor, or at the woman who had disarmed him, or at him and Steph, who probably looked as appalled as the rest of them.

Ren relaxed her shoulders, rolling her head back and forth before she threw the broken stick at the ground. The aggressor reeled at her, still writhing in pain on the floor. Connor could see the fear on his face, the rightful, justified fear he should have, though the urban explorer had zero sympathy for him. He was certainly shocked that Ren had this in her, this same woman who had almost enticed him to do whatever she asked of him. 

She almost seemed too good to be true. Beyond that though, this woman had become a hundred times more enigmatic than he could’ve possibly imagined.

“The only ‘chink’ here was the sound your leg made,” Ren told him, slanting her head with an extremely brittle grin.

The rest of the night went about as well as Connor had suspected it to. Outside the bar, the parking lot was wet and muggy from a surprise shower and Connor had a hunch that was his fault. Some bar patrons assisted with keeping the pedo-stached ‘Michael’ calm, and as far way from Connor and Ren as they could. When the police arrived, the first thing they did was separate him from Ren, Michael, and the other patron who had been thrown into a table. Connor had given his statement to an officer who happened to work with him regularly at his job, and as it turned out, whether Michael got charged or not was up to the state instead of the urban explorer due to the nature of the offense. Michael had not only committed aggravated assault, but he had drawn a knife on Connor and Ren.

Eventually, Steph decided to peel out early despite Connor’s protests. He worried about the woman’s sobriety, but she appeared recuperated enough to walk straight and drive. The night had aged, as he checked his phone on the hood of his car. The international time read twenty-one thirty-three, or 9:33 in normal terms. The glowering frown he had worn since the police arrived coupled with the sullen demeanor put off some officers from approaching him, he supposed. We _ haven’t done anything wrong tonight. They keep looking at us like we’re criminals. _

He turned to stare across the poorly-lit parking lot where under the blue and red flashes he spotted Ren, propped against her vehicle—now, while the issues facing them had taken precedent over minute details such as this, Connor had still been seriously surprised by the fact that the snow-haired Ren rode around on a sleek crimson and black motor-cycle. Despite the fight or the questions by impatient police officers, she continued to confound him.  _ Yes. That  _ is  _ the right word, by now.  _ He chose confound rather than surprise because by now all she had done was confuse him. This powerful woman, who had mesmerized him and then defended him, appeared shaken up. With her arms tucked underneath one another, she was doing a poor job of hiding her trembling. It was faint, but Connor could see her shoulders shudder and her head shake, with rapidly blinking eyes and an apprehensive countenance. It was strange for him to see such vulnerability after building this image of Ren as this unstoppable person. With the breeze picking up and sweat beading on the back of his neck, he shivered as well. They both were decked out in over the top clothes too hot for a Florida night. As if some cosmic irony, he had come out tonight to forget his problems and gained two new worries: Steph, who chose to leave as soon as she ‘felt good to drive’, and Ren, who had been asked so many questions by the police that she might have been in more trouble than Connor knew about.

Despite the punch to his jaw, he wasn’t worried in the slightest about himself. _ I’ll text Steph to see if she made it home okay, just in case.  _ With all accounts of the incident on record, Connor was technically free to go if he wanted to. Michael had already been loaded into an ambulance and the police still there were typing up a report in one of their squad cars. Observably, Ren hadn’t left the scene yet either, although the police might not be done with her. He could at least talk to her one on one and see how she felt. After coming to his defense like that, it was the least he owed her and beyond that, it made for a good excuse to sober up before he left.

Scanning the rest of the parking lot, he took in the number of empty spaces from people who had left the scene right before the cops arrived. He could understand why bar hoppers would be paranoid about police presence right outside their establishment of choice, but they had  _ really  _ cleared out. He counted maybe eight cars and two trucks total, not including law enforcement or Ren’s motorcycle.  _ Tonight’s a fucking mess. I don’t know whether to call it a great or a horrible night _ .

He watched an officer approach Ren for the sixth time, giving her a sheet of paper before returning to his fellow officers. Ren pulled the item close to her chest, closing her eyes and dipping her chin down. Just like that, the police had begun their departures, turning their strobe lights off and headed for the highway. If he was going to check on her, now was the time.

Connor got up off his hood and walked over to her, offering her a smile when she opened her eyes to stare at him. She didn’t return the smile but kept her eyes locked with his until he was close enough to hug her—another intrusive thought he couldn’t get rid of. They had been so close earlier that there was no way he could shake those feelings.

“Hey, Ren,” Connor greeted her as she exhaled sharply, her lips quirking downward. “Can we talk before you leave?”

“Sure,” she said with an empty tone. “What’s up?”

“Thank you for intervening,” Connor told her as the woman’s eyes widened and her stuck scowl softened. “You didn’t have to do that, but you put yourself in harms way for me and I won’t forget that.” He watched her gradually come out of her shell, slouching and placing her hands on the motorcycle behind her rather than defensively tucked close to her body. 

“How’s your face?” she asked him. “You denied treatment.”

“Oh, me?” Connor laughed, dismissing the idea with a free hand. “I’ve had worse scraps. Um, I also meant to ask if you’re alright.” Ren jolted up again, as if she had been insulted.

“Never better, why?” she jabbed unabashedly, scrunching her brows as if every ounce of her strength had come into question.

“You were quivering earlier,” Connor raised his hand halfway up to gesture, but she turned away from him instantly and stared down at the motorcycle. “Hey, I’m sorry. I can’t help but notice, but you can tell me the truth.”

“I know I can,” Ren answered him, her head lowered. She was acting entirely different to the Ren he had met inside. This one was abrasive and pithy, treating him like he was annoying her. “You don’t need to worry about me, either.”

“Noted,” Connor said, tilting his head in even more confusion. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“I lived in San Antonio for a year. I got really into kendo and fencing. I felt like I needed to learn some self defense.” _ Alright, at least she’s talking calmly _ . “The police can’t believe that I knocked your friend out. I can tell they weren’t taking me seriously, like I didn’t just break the pool stick on his legs.” Connor could see how law enforcement might be skeptical over this entire ordeal, given that Ren didn’t fit the bill of someone capable of putting you on the ground in an instant. One could argue she used excessive force, but Connor found that idea contrived.

“He pulled a knife on you,” Connor reminded her, slightly concerned. “You were acting in self defense. They couldn’t seriously doubt our stories.”

“I didn’t have to send him to the hospital,” she confessed, shaking her head. “But I did. I lost my cool. Can I ask you a question, Connor?”

“You’ve earned that for sure,” he said, cautioning himself. He didn’t like the feel of this conversation, his stomach already dropping. This wasn’t a fight or an argument, but there was tension in her voice. Ren was practically a stranger to him and yet he already dreaded the coming line.

“Are you afraid of anything?” Ren asked him, exhaling again and raising her head to stare across the adjacent lot. “Are you afraid of  _ me _ ?” The questions were like a smack to his face. He hadn’t seen them coming and even if he had, there was no telling what he would’ve said. Why was that on her mind, of all the things to fret over?

“Truthfully?” Connor began, keeping his distance as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m terrified of how close I came to dropping my guard around you tonight.”

“No, Connor. Are you afraid of being _ around _ me after tonight?” Ren asked with her back still to him. “Did I not scare you away?” This question was a rather complex one for him to reply to. He wasn’t afraid of her combat prowess, more so the temptation to just let loose and see where it went. That was his problem, not hers, to solve. _ So where are we going with this, Connor? What happens now? _

“I’m standing here, right behind you. I’m glad I met you tonight. I might’ve been worse for wear without it,” he said it all quickly, holding onto a single breath. “Ren, can you turn around for me? So I know you’re okay?” 

When the snow-haired woman acquiesced, Connor nearly gasped. Her eyes were red and a stream of tears trailed down the side of her cheeks. He watched how she fought her twitching lips and furrowed brows, like she was battling with demons of her own inside. “I didn’t mean to go off like that. Tell me you aren’t afraid of me, Connor. Please,” she rasped, sniffling through her nose.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Connor confirmed for the crying Ren. “How could I be?”

“What if you should be?” Ren asked him, constraining a whimper behind her words. “Because every time this shit happens, I feel like a monster.”  _ Oh, my god. _

He outstretched his arms, offering what little consolation he come up with on the spot. She reluctantly stepped forward and wrapped hers around his neck, resting her face on his shoulder. He placed his hands on her lower back and held her, a million thoughts and feelings screaming in his head at once. All he could manage to think of was how many times he had felt this way over the past year, and how nobody had really _ got _ it. Ren couldn’t stop time, and she couldn’t create hurricanes, but what she just said  _ spoke _ to him. He could tell that she hated herself, even when she likely knew that was wrong.

“You aren’t a monster,” Connor whispered to her while she quietly cried into his shoulder. “You’re just a human, named Ren.”

“Yesfir,” she replied, coughing. He stabilized her, until she spoke again. “Ren Yesfir.”

“Connor Papworth,” he assuaged her, pulling her ever closer into the embrace. He thought he would’ve wanted this, to have her pressed against him like this. Instead, he felt even more depressed than before he had gotten here. Ren was way more than upset from the fight. She’d been this way for far too long and that was something he couldn’t understand any more than he already did. He too had begun crying softly and didn’t bother to resist the tears. They were sharing a moment together, and even if it was incredibly sad and confusing, it was happening. They were dealing with it together, and that was something he hadn’t had the luxury of for a very, very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hollow tune, within the fire  
> I feel and breathe, so uninspired  
> My broken hands, my weary bones  
> I sit my words beside my throne  
> You're not alone, I'm not alone  
> Can you hear me from there?  
> You're not alone


	5. Arcadian Psycho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to harassment across multiple websites, including this one, comments have been set to approval only. I'm sorry that it had to come to this.

#  **Chapter Four: Arcadian Psycho**

**_Monday, April 11_ ** **_th_ ** **_2016, 2:05PM_ **

Unexpectedly, life had moved on over the next few weeks since the girls had hid away in San Bernardino. Even some semblance of normalcy had returned. No tail had followed them home since and nothing out of the ordinary had happened beyond wild details coming out about Mr. Hugo Wright’s murder. Coupled with the story of the night that Steph and Connor had had a while back, these two things were on Chloe’s mind, oddly enough, as she bagged groceries at the front of her store.

It had been a relatively peaceful day, and that was nothing to take for granted at a place like this. Chloe was actually _relaxed_ despite the constant pervasive reminder that Mr. Wright had been found dead in his black sedan with no evidence to suggest who had done it. The angled hole in his chest and no damage to the car itself suggested that he had been shot by somebody sitting in his car. Chloe considered it a stretch still, but she could no longer discount the chance that these events were related. These were the kind of people that she and Max were potentially dealing with, and they had been silent for nearly half a month. It kept Chloe vigilant at minimum, but paranoid at most.

The strawberry blonde had been this way ever since the tail and luckily, the general manager had taken notice of her unusual behavior. It led to a conversation during which Mr. Z had been told the details about Eliot Hampden and agreed to put a storewide BOLO out—be on the look out—for Chloe’s stalker. It had given her a feeling of support and perhaps even validation that she was valued and respected by her superiors. Through the process of learning this, though, Chloe had also discovered that her general manager had known about her tragic past—Arcadia Bay and all.

She tried not to think about it even as she bagged a gallon milk jug with a few frozen meals and passed it over to a customer. The old woman’s bright eyes closed and a grin wrapped around her cheeks as she thanked Chloe and left. Chloe found a grin of her own as she mimicked the woman’s courtesy. She was going through the motions as a coworker rang up the items behind her, keeping her ears to the radio and customers.

 _On a brighter note, it’s cool that Connor and Steph met someone new._ Chloe had, for the most part, quit her lurking on the internet and tried talking to her friends more than once a week _._ Actually checking up on Steph had led her to discover Ren, and apparently she had kicked some guy’s ass at a bar right in front of those two. Steph claimed she could attest to Ren’s unique personality, and Chloe had been hearing things about the woman through message for a few weeks now. Seeing the photo Connor had snapped with her, Chloe had to admit Ren was dazzling. Those two had accepted her into the fold as they had been hanging out frequently since their first meeting. Chloe herself had spoken to Ren in a comment section online and the strawberry blonde could tell this woman was fierce. Her bottle white hair and silver highlights were eye catching enough, but the way she dressed and the perceived bullishly confident attitude left Chloe a tiny bit curious. It was only harmless curiosity, and quite a random thought to have while the punk lost herself in the work grind.

Out of habit lately, Chloe would scan the perimeter and look over her shoulder for anything out of the ordinary. This was something she had always done before, though with less attentive eyes and more on her employees. Due to recent circumstances, she was looking for anything that could set off red flags, like a certain Eliot. As she took a good gander around, taking in the usual scaffolding on the ceiling and the massive aisles of products, Chloe found comfort in things being business as usual around her store. Since morning, the action had died down a lot which wasn’t uncommon for a Monday shift. As always, it had picked back up after twelve.

A few registers over, there was something that caught Chloe’s attention, even as she started bagging the next customer. The more she examined this customer’s black band tee, the more nostalgia she felt as she recognized the logo and name: PissHead, with which Chloe had only become familiar with due to an old friend in the band named Skip Matthews. _Was he my friend? I dunno. I think he was._ Skip had been one of Blackwell’s security guards, one who was arguably pretty chill even when he shouldn’t have been. Skip had sure beat her fascist stepfather who had run the security department like a military unit, but good old Skip had a true calling. Chloe was glad Blackwell hadn’t gotten in the way of his music career, and seeing that he still had a following meant he was alive and successful. She wondered where Skip could be right now, and what kind of content PissHead could have put out since she last listened to their demo track. _Skip also owes me a bowl. He promised to smoke with me and it never happened. Imagining it now. Amazing._

As the next customer rang out and left with a shopping cart full of bags, Chloe took in the sight of all the customers surrounding their four open registers. While it _had_ been a peaceful day, that didn’t make it exempt from shitty customers. An angry woman had stormed the help desk about expired coupons and then, some workplace drama in Omar’s auto department had steered her clear of both areas during the early hours, Chloe preferring to help with inventory and scanning rather than confrontations unless it was absolutely required. _Because I deserve a mental vacation. I need more weed, maybe some loud bass and a lot of beer._ Here she was, actually in _charge_ of people, handling their supervision, and yet she still felt like the same Chloe Price that had been told how much of a loser she was by several people.

She sighed, imagining just what type of apology her mom and stepdad would give her. _I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one, Cap’n Bluebeard_ . Chloe suspected Joyce would’ve been proud of her no matter what, but David on the other hand had always been a hard man to please. _Sorry David, I wouldn’t actually care about your approval. I guess I’m just wondering at this point._ Before she knew it, she was already bagging yet another customer. This made the tenth since she had zoned out, losing track of time in the grind.

David Madsen had been a complicated fellow even if she liked to pretend otherwise. As her stepfather, he had been a horrible parent and an even worse person with an ego to compensate. It was depressing that the strawberry blonde couldn’t imagine a single time that she had spent around David where the two of them had gotten along. He had had so many faults, and had never tried to help her with her own in constructive ways. However, there was one thing Chloe couldn’t insult about him. His work ethic, setting aside his _actual_ ethics, had been superb. If you had given him something to work with, he could have built a mountain of bullshit out of it eventually. Chloe had started wondering if she even hated the man anymore, if there even was a point to hating him now that he had been gone for over two years.

Lately, she had been feeling old anger that had been locked away, deep inside her heart. Funnily enough, she didn’t feel that same anger at the thought of David anymore. Maybe, it was because she knew deep down, she’d be the one smiling as he ate his words and saluted her, or some other military crap that he had always paraded around with. She had amounted to more than David ever said she could amount to. Chloe closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the coworker beside her give the total to the newest customer in line. The lack of sleep burned into her eyelids and she almost wanted to keep them closed, until she felt a nudge on her shoulder from behind.

Turning to face Robert, black hair as slicked as usual, Chloe’s lips quirked to see him staring back at her with the same sleepy eyes that she must’ve had. “Hey uh, Captain Price.” _Okay, so you’re sticking with that name._ Chloe groaned, cricking her neck and running a free hand through her hair as the young man addressed her. “I need to let you know about a red duffle bag that was left outside.”

“Huh,” Chloe slowly said. “A duffle bag?”

“It’s been outside for a few hours,” Robert reported. “It’s kind of outside the auto department, along the sidewalk near the auto parking lot? I figured a supe should know.”

“And I’m the only supe you like talking to,” Chloe mused, folding her arms slightly lopsided. “Thanks, Robert. I’ll look into it when I’m not screaming into the void up here.” She hadn’t an idea as to why someone would’ve even brought a duffle bag to the store, but given its proximity to auto it could have been a leftover from Omar’s locker room.

“You welcome, boss,” he pointed as he turned on a heel, headed back to the bakery section. Robert was always a fun, albeit eccentric guy. Then again, when you really got to know fellow employees, who _wasn’t_ eccentric? Chloe returned to the bagging table, preparing for a family of four in line when her radio went off.

“Price, location?” the passive voice of her general manager chimed in. Chloe quickly unclipped the radio from her waist and brought it close to her lips, pressing down on the talk button.

“At the front, what’s up?” she reported back.

“On my way. Can you meet me near the customer service desk?” requested Mr. Zgonc.

“Roger,” Chloe replied stoutly, clipping the radio to her waist and briefly exchanging a glance with the employee she was working with. The woman caught her drift to shut down the register and take her lunch as Chloe moseyed over to the customer service desk, awaiting Thomas Zgonc’s arrival. It wasn’t unusual for the GM to request her or other supervisors’ presence regularly, and she welcomed a simple change up to the past two hours of bagging. Five minutes and some change later, the man in his mid-forties graced her presence with a less than happy expression on hand. Chloe greeted him with her rehearsed chipper attitude, and he returned a small greeting before cutting straight to the chase. Immediately, he began asking her questions about their employees that came off as kind of invasive. She struggled to understand where it was going until he mentioned Claire.

“Claire’s been calling out too much,” he continued, gesturing with a hand toward the clipboard in his other while Chloe tried to peer over his shoulder at it. “She’s been given a lot of leniency from me and the company but it’s getting out of hand. Her performance’s slipping, you’ve been a witness to some of our customer complaints,” his head turned slightly towards Chloe, as if to look at her. Chloe wanted to object, considering Claire didn’t deserve that black mark on her record, but she let her boss keep talking. “What are your observations on her?”

Chloe was surprised that Tom was asking for her opinion on the matter, and it showed on her face as he turned entirely to address her. “Um, well… I’m struggling to understand Claire too, but I think some of those complaints aren’t substantiated.” Chloe noted to herself that while she and others at the store had grown fonder of Claire since her trip to the hospital and subsequent resignation as a supervisor, she remained staunchly abrasive. Chloe knew abrasive like a sibling she had never had and could work with that.

“Could you look into it as a favor to me? Claire’s always had great attendance and fantastic performance until recently. I’d like to get to the bottom of it.” Chloe nodded her head in affirmation, willing to try it out. It was her obligation as a supervisor to care for the well-being of all her employees, and that included the blonde that came off rude sometimes. “Good. If she won’t talk to me plainly, I hope you can get it done politely.” _Why the fuck did you add_ politely _, as if I don’t do that already?_ Chloe stared off to the side in an attempt to hide her wounded face. It sounded like he had heard about the electronics incident after all. Still, it didn’t look like he was disappointed in her over it.

“It won’t be anything I can’t handle,” Chloe promised, returning to her boss. She for sure knew that, but it would still be a challenge with Claire. The strawberry blonde would need to stretch and unwind a bit, maybe even regain some of the energy lost throughout her shift with a nice pot of freshly brewed coffee before she sat down with Claire. Since she hadn’t had her break yet, Chloe thought that she knew the best time to try out her _sharply honed social skills_ ; honesty, mixed in with as much tact as she could stomach. That too had taken a long time for her to master, even with people like Max around to help her. “I’ll talk to her before I get off today.”

The coffee pot sitting on the break room counter top was a welcoming sight for supervisor Price. She kicked her feet up on a nearby seat while chowing down on a delicacy prepared by Chef Caulfield. In Chloe’s lunch bag, her girlfriend had packed a pristine BLT with a yellowed banana and a tiny juice pack. It was adorable, reminding Chloe of her childhood before the dark times and Max had been thoughtful enough to leave a tiny note reminding her that she loved the punk. Her coffee sat in a styrofoam cup adjacent to the BLT, awaiting Claire’s arrival to the break room to begin their off the books discussion. Chloe’s feet and back were already recovering from the solid five hours on the floor, though she decided to stimulate her brain by going through some news and social media. Politics were looking scary, especially since Max had already spoiled the presidential election for her so mindless Facebook and texting would do. Seeing an image pop up from her messenger, she scoffed and then laughed while shaking her head quickly at the item Hyram had sent her.

#    


_2:58PM Me_

_are u fucking kidding me lol_

_2:59PM Hyram_

_I am, in fact, not fucking kidding you_

_3:01PM Me_

_ok it was hella funny but im at wrk! U cant just send me that shit all the time_

_3:01PM Hyram_

_Thank you so much, I needed validation that you enjoy my regular shitposts :)_

_3:02PM Me_

_ur life is a shitpost hyram_

_3:02PM Me_

_wait wtf did u just emoji me??_

#    


She played around with her phone for a few more moments, in part waiting for Hyram to respond and to kill time when an unknown caller popped up on her screen, accompanied by vibration. An all too familiar rush of anxiety overcame Chloe as she grabbed for her coffee, took a large sip and then swiped to answer the phone, putting it on speaker.

“Hello, Chloe.” She recognized Eliot’s voice like before, but this time she could hear the difference from the young man he had been in Arcadia Bay. He was deeper, more ragged, and way more snarky than before. The Eliot she had last seen was unstable, but the one here kept that blind conviction in his tone that he had always known better than her, that she somehow belonged to him. Even thinking about it made her blood boil. “I know you’re there. I know you can hear me.”

“What the fuck do you want, _Eliot Hampden_ ?” growled Chloe, nostrils flaring and eyes glued to the ceiling. Her entire body stiffened as she refused to move. All she wanted to do was reach through the phone and yank his balls out from between his legs. After everything she and Max had been through, this asshole was _not_ going to make it worse. When he didn’t answer, Chloe realized the burning sensation on her hand had been from squeezing her cup too tightly, spilling it all over the table.

“Well, since you’re the one in charge ‘round these parts I wanted to report that I lost my red duffle bag when I was there shopping.” The red duffle bag that Robert had reported on was _his_. Chloe resisted every temptation to throw her phone against the wall, to call him every horrible thing she could think of on the spot. “You seen it?”

“W-Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” Chloe asked him, stammering. “What the fuck did we do to deserve this bullshit?”

“You and, Max, right? You two are going to suffer every single injustice that you’ve caused me and everybody else. I know _everything_ .” Eliot hung up without a further word. Chloe dropped her cup onto the table, getting to her feet and sliding her phone into her pocket. She moved the chair out of her way as she ran towards the door, passing a confused Claire who tried and failed to stop Chloe from rushing past her. Even when Claire attempted asking what was going on, it was a footnote in Chloe’s head as she passed electronics, ran through the center of the store and past numerous colleagues. Once she made it out the automatic sliders at the very front of her store, she did a frantic check around the entire parking lot from her position on the sidewalk, using her hands as visors to block out the blazing sun. From the front to the back of the lot, she spotted no duffle bag at all. _Where the fuck was it at?_ If she could find it, she might have a lead on finding Eliot and putting an end to this madness. Recollecting everything she knew about it, remembering Robert’s report, Chloe cursed when she realized the bag was outside the auto department.

Running along the exterior sidewalk, Chloe brushed between two shoppers carrying their groceries. The outside world was almost like a buzzing noise, sounds she couldn’t focus on or things that weren’t even registering to her. In the heat of the moment, she suspected her radio had started going off. It wasn’t her priority right now. The only thing that mattered was finding out where Eliot was hiding, and how he had been tracking them down, to keep her and Max safe. She rounded a corner and saw the unwelcome item, approximately a hundred yards ahead of her on the sidewalk. It was bright red and even from her position, obvious wear and tear was visible.

Chloe took off posthaste, hellbent on catching any lead she could. In record time, she was kneeling over the red bag, unzipping every single pouch and pocket to search its contents. The thing itself was heavy and when she reached inside to feel around, the first thing her hand found purchase on was smooth and papery. Chloe pulled out a large photograph of their apartment complex, her heart skipping a beat or two. The angered punk dropped it, gulping a huge breath of air as she dumped out the rest of the bag’s contents. Where all sort of trinkets from their days at Blackwell and pictures Eliot had somehow held onto of her fell out onto the pavement, they were mixed together with tons of rocks. Another large photograph was present, of Max smiling with two strangers Chloe had never seen before. _It looks like a selfie, how the fuck did he get his hands on this?_

This was very overwhelming even for someone as hardy as Chloe. She dug through the pile of objects on the sidewalk, distinguishing things she barely remembered between the things she didn’t know at all. It was all coming back to her fast, how Eliot had been—potentially still _was_ obsessed with her because she had been ungainly intimate him once when she was lonesome after her dad’s death. She had never reciprocated feelings and had continued to treat him like a distant friend as Chloe had done with many people out of bad habit, but Eliot had taken it a step further by stalking her around Arcadia Bay until a confrontation inside Rachel’s old home had happened, when the two were all alone. Eliot had _hated_ Rachel with a fiery passion and blamed all of Chloe’s problems on her. Thankfully, he had never hurt her or Max and had been expelled after taking the fall for Chloe breaking into Rachel’s father’s office. But that was then, and now Chloe had no idea what he was capable of.

She wiped away the sweat built up on her forehead, taking more deep breaths to calm herself down. If he hadn’t mentioned Max or how he had claimed to know what they had done, Chloe might have believed this was all some petty revenge plot. But after the last phone call, it couldn’t be. What could Eliot possibly know about her relationship? Was it crazy to consider that Eliot might know about Max’s powers, or what had really happened to their hometown? She held the photo of her girlfriend in her left hand, with one of the many rocks Eliot had packed into the bag in the other, almost balancing them out when the last voice she needed to hear called out to her.

“Chloe. What the hell are you doing?” Chloe spun around from her crouch to see GM Zgonc next to Omar and Claire at the auto department entrance, both confused and with dropped jaws. It took Chloe five or six seconds to understand how bad this looked, that she had ran through the store panicked without an explanation and now she was bent over a suspicious package, going through its items.

“I got another call from Eliot!” she defended herself. “He told me about this bag. I had to see it for myself.”

“Why didn’t you comply with our suspicious package SOP?” the GM asked her, turning Chloe’s red cheeks even redder as she suddenly recognized the hole she had just dug herself. _This son of a bitch! If I hadn’t acted so brash… God damn it!_

“Clearly, it isn’t a bomb,” Chloe remarked dismissively, holding up the items in her hands. She could tell Omar was studying her, as were Claire and the GM. She muttered under her breath how this was so unfair. Eliot might not have been smart enough to do it, but he had inadvertently pulled off an attack on her credibility at work. What had he been expecting from this stunt, anyway? Chloe shrugged it off and dropped the items, getting to her feet as the GM requested that she join them at the door. Chloe lowered her eyes as she complied, refusing to see the judgment on their faces. This had somehow turned into a coordinated attack on her, and it was a load of shit. The strawberry blonde raised her head to see the GM’s perplexing glare.

“Meet me in the office,” he ordered softly, before moving back. In his hand, she finally noticed a cell phone with the screen lit and on a call. Chloe saw Claire turn away from her, as if trying to hide some scorn or contempt she had on her face. Only Omar engaged the punk, informing her that the bomb squad had been already called by the time she had started running through the store. Chloe felt like this was all some big joke meant to fuck her over. If the old junkyard from her childhood had still been around, oh man, Chloe would’ve been there to break some shit pronto.

The day went as horribly as Chloe had figured it would go. Now, all she wanted to do was keep on drinking from the comfort of her couch. The punk was on her fifth beer, and she had chugged the last one with the hopes that she’d feel something soon. Chloe had seriously underestimated how much the intoxication would hit her all at once as her head already began to spin. She hadn’t even taken her uniform off, preferring to just sink into the couch and die instead of think about the traumatic day. While her phone read that it was only eight at night, she thought it didn’t feel like eight o’clock on a Monday. Her little photographer was off running errands, despite Chloe’s sudden feelings of dread whenever she thought about Max by herself. Max had had to convince her to leave it alone since she had superpowers and could handle herself. Chloe wanted to believe it, and she did to a degree but couldn’t be sure. If anything happened to Max, Chloe didn’t know what she’d do. It wasn’t a road she wanted to consider, and with that thought Chloe sipped the beer currently in her hands.

After the grilling she had undergone at the hands of her general manager, the police, and then her own grilling of Claire for taking the issue straight to Mr. Z, Chloe was mindlessly watching some show about teenagers sent down to Earth from a space station. When sober, she gathered that show had a dystopia feel to it and the characters were almost always in opposition to one another, but in Chloe’s inebriated state, it was harder than ever to pay attention. She tried tuning in to the scene currently on screen, an argument between two main characters named Clarke and Bellamy. The punk had picked a bad time to tackle a show on her and Max’s watch list, considering how slammed she was. _But Max said she had to go do something, she just had to._ Her eyes felt heavy and she rested them, leaning into the couch at an angle and dropping the now-empty bottle onto the cushion. Clarke was winning the argument on screen, as always with Bellamy.

The next thing she heard was Eliot, inside James Amber’s desecrated office.

“Who was there for you? When Max left? When your dad died? No one else gave a shit about you except for me. We have a lot to talk about, and I don’t care how long it takes. We’re not leaving until _you_ see that _I’m_ right.” In front of her was the creep himself, brunet hair and unrelenting in the idea that he was the only person who understood her—even more, believing that he was the only person who deserved her. Chloe reached out to deck him square in the face, but when her knuckles connected with his cheek he disappeared and the world around her melted. While she had previously been standing in front of James Amber’s desk, Chloe slipped and fell into pitch black. In the pit of her stomach, the rush hit her. Clear as day, though, Eliot was still ranting.

“I _was_ right. About Rachel,” he echoed through the darkness while Chloe continued to fall. “She was dangerous, and you didn’t listen.”

“Rachel never gaslit me!” Chloe shouted into the black. “She never intimidated me, she never pretended to care about the things I said! So what, Eliot? We fucked once, I talked to you about my problems, and you thought that meant I was yours? Just like Rachel, you fucking lied. Everyone fucking lied!”

“You lied to me first,” came an unexpected declaration that made Chloe’s skin crawl. It wasn’t often that Rachel haunted her dreams, and Chloe had been afraid that she might have forgotten what Rachel’s voice even sounded like. Even though the punk had figured out she was dreaming, her heart stopped upon hearing the dead woman’s voice. Chloe knew exactly what Rachel was referring to: the ultimate decision that Rachel’s mom had talked her into that had eventually destroyed their relationship. Chloe lied and told Rachel that she hadn’t been able to find Sera Gearhardt. Instead of the truth that her father had tried to blackmail a drug dealer into killing Sera to prevent her from meeting her daughter, Chloe had lied. She hadn’t wanted Rachel to grow up as angry as she had been without her father, or angry _at_ her father, but now that lie remained one of the punk’s biggest regrets. “You’ve figured out who told me, yet?”

“You found out from Frank, when you started seeing him!” Chloe yelled, hearing her own voice reverberate. “Rachel, you lied about a whole lot more than me, and I refuse to argue with someone who isn’t real.”

“Then what if I wasn’t dead?” Rachel asked from right over Chloe’s shoulder, spooking her. She spun around to see the only other woman she had loved like Max, who had been taken from her by Nathan Prescott and Mark Jefferson. Her blonde hair, shadowed eyes and blue-feathered ear ring were all there, like she hadn’t aged a day. Suddenly, Chloe tensed, feeling the barrel of a handgun pushed forcefully into her gut. That moment in the Blackwell bathroom where Prescott nearly shot her was forever etched into her head. Instead of Nathan, it was Rachel holding the gun to her stomach. “What if Eliot was right about me? Didn’t I ruin you, right as you started picking up the pieces?”

“No!” Chloe exclaimed, pushing the gun away from her stomach. Rachel’s face was sunken and dead, like she wasn’t even really Rachel but a ghoulish apparition. “You have a lot to answer for, but I could forgive you, Rachel! If you hadn’t stopped trusting me, you’d still be alive.”

“Is that what you really believe?” inquired the distorted Rachel Amber. “If I talked to you, you’d know when to convince me not to hang out with Nathan that night? Holy shit, Price. You need to let go of me already.”

“I can’t,” Chloe said, her eyes swelling. How could she feel this awful in the dreamscape? “Finding the truth about what happened to you, Max coming to my rescue… all of it doomed our town. I begged Max to let me die, Rachel. And she wouldn’t let it happen. You didn’t deserve to go. If I let go of you, then Max is the only thing I have left from Arcadia Bay.”

“Seriously, just me and Max? Is that really what you tell yourself to feel better?” the distorted Amber replied, lifting a hand to gesture. Chloe scoffed weakly at the attack on her insecurity. She fought the urge to tell off this fake Rachel.

“I miss when my dad came to visit me during these,” Chloe sharply rebuked.

“Haha,” Rachel lowered her head, her face almost normal again. The apparition’s green eyes looked Chloe from head toe, and then folded her arms. “He’s still here, somewhere. We decided I needed to be the one to have this talk with you.”

“Why are we here, Rach?” Chloe asked, cutting to the chase. “What infinite wisdom are you or my dad supposed to bestow? All you’ve done is attack me.”

“I’m here to tell you the truth that you aren’t thinking about: that you’ve survived so much worse than some limp-dicked fuckboy like Eliot. Besides,” the fake Amber dropped both arms to her side. “With a girl like Max at your side, you have nothing to worry about from Time Prick.” Chloe couldn’t tell if she was smiling in the dream, but Rachel began curling her own lip in satisfaction.

“Heh, like the nickname?” Chloe asked to the apparition of Rachel, who had taken an even closer step towards her. Rachel and the punk were nearly face to face now, and Chloe had an urge to reach out and grab the woman in her dream. Part of that felt wrong, with Max having been brought up only seconds earlier. Still, the feelings persisted as Rachel inched forward.

“Not as great as stepdouche or stepladder,” Rachel whispered as she placed her hands on Chloe’s neck, leaned up and parted her lips with her own. Chloe gave in, feeling the rush of emotions long buried away. As the kiss grew into something more with wandering hands and heavy sighs, Chloe tried to push away. Somehow, being with Rachel this way, especially one that wasn’t _real_ , felt so, so wrong. The other strawberry blonde resisted and yanked Chloe back in for another kiss, making it even harder for her to say no until she opened her eyes.

Instead of Rachel holding her against her will, Eliot had Chloe in his grasp. She wanted to scream, cry, and smack him with the back of her hand all at once. He slammed her against an unseen wall, moving in to impose his desires against her. Already, he pinned her wrists above her head and moved in towards her neck. The strawberry blonde shuddered, telling him to stop, and when he ignored her request and touched her bare skin, she pulled with both arms to no avail. Chloe felt sick to her stomach, imagining his lips against her neck until she brought a knee up to his crotch, and then pushed him off. Chloe released a whimper in her flight, hearing Eliot’s footsteps as he marched after her. She was supposed to be in control of these dreams. This was totally fucked up.

“Adapt or die, Chloe! Adapt or die!” The void around her shifted into the unpleasant sight of the Dark Room, where unspeakable things had been done by Nathan and Jefferson in secret. In the center of the room strapped down to the metal chair was Max in her underwear, horrified with eyes dilated like a deer in the headlights. Then, for a brief moment, Chloe saw Rachel in her place, until both she and Max were indistinguishable from one another. Both began to bleed from their noses, repeating the same thing that Eliot had been screaming at her. Adapt or die. Adapt or die. Adapt or die.

When Chloe came to, she almost pushed the psyched out brunette off of her lap. Chloe felt like ass and was still very drunk, but Max was perched right in front of her, rubbing Chloe’s face and checking her forehead.

“Oh fuck,” Chloe swooned. “Max, forgive me please?”

“Are you okay, hun?” inquired Max as Chloe came to her senses. “I’d kiss you if your breath didn’t smell so bad.” Chloe’s throat was extremely dry and her head ached, sending her mixed signals on whether she was still intoxicated or sobered up by the nightmare.

“No.” Chloe told her, disgusted with her dream and everything on her mind. “I need to use the bathroom.” Max scooted off of her lap and onto the couch beside her, her hands still playing with Chloe’s hair. The strawberry blonde loved the affection, but not when her self-esteem was this destroyed. She needed to get to a mirror and a sink. Chloe touched her own neck, and then ran her hands over her jawline and cheeks, shivering again. She knew what clammy skin felt like, she still hadn’t showered, and she _definitely_ needed a shower after such a nightmare. _Don’t mind me as I slide into the bathtub for two hours._

 _“_ Okay,” Max said calmly, pulling her hand away from Chloe’s bangs. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Just a really bad nightmare,” Chloe said. “I didn’t think you could have any dreams at all with this much alcohol.”

“Want to lay off of it for the night?” Max questioned with caution. “You’re slurring.” _I’m hella not slurring._ “It might be better if you’re sober for the tech monkeys anyway.”

“Dunno,” Chloe replied. “Might get crossfaded.”

“Chloe,” Max said sternly, resting a hand on her thigh. Chloe responded by placing both of her hands on Max’s and leaned in on her shoulder.

“I appreciate the concern, love. I’ll be fine if you aren’t disappearing any time soon,” Chloe breathed out, clicking her tongue immediately after.

“Never,” Max said, kissing Chloe on the top of her head in a minor change of attitude. Chloe was too out of it to comment. “Go get freshened up, alright? I’ll see what Steph and Aubrey have found.”

Chloe decided on taking a quick shower to wash away the sweat and pain that the day had given her. At Max’s request, she chugged a bottle of water before hopping into a hot bathtub and letting the powerhead massage her neck and scalp. She thought of dying her hair again, and what her boss’s reaction would’ve been if she went through with it. _I don’t want to think about him right now. Fuck Tom, for that humiliating bullshit._ She shooed him away from her wandering mind, deciding to shampoo and condition her hair and scrub at her skin with a bath sponge and soap. Once it was all over, she attempted self care in the form of moisturizing and brushing her teeth. The punk was still recovering from her beer binge, but the hangover was about to disappear as soon as she put on her blue button-up pajamas and hit her bong. _At least these pajamas are cute. Nice surprise for my birthday, thanks to Vanessa._

After spending a good amount of time with her bong, Chloe sat with Max in front of their laptop at the kitchen table. Chloe had seen Steph plenty through pictures over the years, but a direct video call was the most intimate interaction they had shared since she had left Arcadia Bay. Steph even put on her gray beanie with the fire emblem, reminding Chloe of happy memories from their days in high school when she had joined in on Steph and co.’s tabletop adventures. In another box on their screen was Aubrey, brushing her beach blonde hair as if she needed to look presentable on camera. They both appeared so grown up and sanguine, and it just made Chloe cheerful. They were two more gorgeous and intelligent ladies to keep her company on a shit day.

“Connor sends his condolences,” Aubrey said as she put down the brush and adjusted her seating, pulling her webcam closer to her face. Steph nodded with a disappointed frown.

“He’s torn up about what happened to you today,” the digital design artist confirmed. Chloe looked to Max, who had started doing the same until they matched eyes with one another. She thought that Connor must have been getting just as suspicious as she had grown that somebody would come for them. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had attempted to use Connor’s powers for nefarious purpose. _And it could happen to Max, too. I’ve taken way too many bong hits to think this way._

“Well, you know me.” Aubrey rolled her shoulders, pushing some hair out of her face. “I’m always super worried he’s in some kind of danger.”

“Aren’t we all?” Max deadpanned. _Worried about him, or in danger?_ When Chloe felt better, she definitely had to shoot Connor some texts of encouragement. Steph appeared to lean in and scrutinize her camera until sitting back down, rubbing her chin jokingly.

“Chloe, are you drunk?” asked Steph cheekily. With a crooked grin, Chloe looked away.

“What gave it away?” replied the punk. _Oh fuck, I’m still slammed and those hits are going to sneak up on me._ A welcome hand from Max came to Chloe’s back and slowly ran up to her left shoulder, where Max began to rest her head. Chloe angled her own view down to the brunette on her shoulder, watching Max’s tranquil expression.

“She’s still out of it, forgive her.” Max moved up to kiss Chloe right on her cheek when Chloe turned her face awkwardly, stealing a kiss from Max. The photographer cursed under her breath and let go of Chloe, returning to her seat. Once returned, she grunted and feigned anger, looking away from the strawberry-haired punk’s batting eyelashes and bitten lower lip.

“Leave me alone,” Chloe quipped, eyes back on Steph and Aubrey. “After today, I’m allowed to be.”

“Yeah,” Aubrey said. “I won’t blame you with Eliot hanging around.” In the shower, Chloe had already decided he wasn’t going to kill her mood or her buzz. If they were going to talk about him, then by all means, she was just faded enough to handle it without freaking out. Aubrey had lived in Arcadia long enough to know of Eliot, though not in the way Chloe had come to know him.

“Eliot was a creep who followed Chloe around like a lost puppy,” Steph explained. “The fact that he had friends like Warren and Logan always bothered the crap out of me.”

“Eww,” Max groaned. “He wasn’t friends with Warren!”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Max,” shrugged Steph. “I’m not saying you can compare them, but Warren was in that circle.” Chloe’s only real memory of Warren outside of being a classmate that had never interacted with her was how much she had deflated his ego by bragging about Max kissing her before everything went to shit. He had been _in love_ with Max, even if she hadn’t seen it then.

“More than that,” Chloe said, picking her words as her burnt throat became tingly from the high. She stopped mid-thought, inhaling slowly to remind herself she was had control. “He cornered me in Rachel’s home while she was in the hospital. He pushed me, put his hands on me. I got him arrested and expelled. I think he’s holding a grudge.”

“Can he be connected to the other guy?” inquired Aubrey, tilting her head and moving her right arm, likely to guide a computer mouse. Steph was unaware of the Yatagarasu, so Aubrey was alluding to him in a less than clandestine manner. Max had brought up this possibility and Chloe supposed after the phone call today, it couldn’t be ruled out though a little ‘out there’ to consider. The strawberry blonde looked over to her photographer again, both of them sort of shrugging at nearly the same time.

“I mean, sure,” Max added.

“Is that why you haven’t updated Kristine? You want to figure this all out first.” Aubrey kept stepping over the line of information that didn’t need to be brought up around Steph, but the auburn-haired artist appeared clueless to their conversation. Chloe could tell Steph was multi-tasking because her eyes were in motion like a typewriter, reading something on her end. When Aubrey’s question registered to Chloe, she snickered obnoxiously, receiving a glare from Max.

“What use would she or Detective Southdouche be that makes them better than us?”

“Actual, legal detective work?” Aubrey asked rhetorically, while Steph had finally shown signs of confusion. She had stopped reading, her brows furrowed instead.

“Southdouche?” Steph asked, looking for clarity. Chloe chortled while Max rolled her eyes.

“Long story, can we do it later?” Max tried deflecting when Chloe had a great thought.

“That moment when Max and I have already accomplished more in a day than that woman has her entire career.” This was when Max shushed her with a hard squeeze to her thigh, giving Chloe the message loud and clear. Steph wasn’t going to be clued in on the truth, and they were focusing solely on Eliot for this discussion.

“Alright,” Steph commented, obviously alienated from the secrecy. “All I’ll say is that turning down professional help is a bad idea. I’m no hacker, I just know a thing or two about info gathering. Most of it is actually common internet sense.”

“Yeah,” Chloe muttered under her breath. “ _Professional._ ” Detective Leanne Southgate could have her uses in this investigation, that Chloe could concede. If the woman wasn’t too busy pointing a gun and threatening people over her own prejudices, that was. Chloe wobbled her head over to Max, who appeared lost in her own thoughts.

“We already have professionals on the case. What have the police done so far?” _Woah, that’s coming from our criminology major!_

“Jack shit,” Chloe remarked, sitting up in the chair. “Although, Eliot’s little stunt today gave us confirmation that I’m not crazy. We caught him on our CCTV cameras dropping the duffle bag off.” A sun-faded pickup truck had shown up, and the brunet obsessed with Chloe had emerged from the driver’s side. Unfortunately, the camera was unable to get a clear view of the vehicle or any potential passenger. “So, at least there’s proof beyond the crank calls.”

“Chloe?” Max tugged on her hand, snapping Chloe back to the brunette beside her. “There’s something else that crossed my mind.”

“Okay Max,” Chloe said. “What is it?” She watched Max sit up a bit, reaching over her lap to hit the mute button on their microphone. Aubrey and Steph were equally confounded at this gesture, with Steph even asking what the point of brainstorming was if they weren’t kept in the loop.

“As cliché as it sounds, what if there’s a government conspiracy or something surrounding this?” Chloe shook her head and grinned in disbelief, the idea just too foolish for her to accept.

“Max, Eliot’s not a Russian spy.”

“Not just him, Chloe,” Max insisted, taking her hands and squeezing them. “Remember how Detective Wright told us that he used to work in some organization that came up with that word ‘Artemis’?”

“Vaguely,” Chloe said, yawning. Her focus had started to hit the dusty trail, a consequence of getting so messed up. “Can you remind me?”

“Artemis is what Southgate called me and Connor. People with abilities like ours,” Max clarified solemnly. “You remember that, right?”

“Oh, fuck,” Chloe groaned. “Yeah. I remember. Look Max, we aren’t joining the Avengers.” Chloe watched Max loosen her grasp on Chloe’s hands and ball her fists, visibly frustrated.

“Take me seriously for a minute, can you? I know you’re high, but listen to me. This has been bothering me ever since the chase.”

“Would Kristine or Southgate even let an agency come after you?” Chloe asked, though perhaps it wasn’t quite fair to assume she knew either woman well enough to make that claim. “Would they go without telling you? Kristine told you Time Prick hit a bunch of high profile targets and people besides Sean Prescott,” Chloe said slowly, rubbing her forehead. “I think it’s bound to come up, but wouldn’t that be something for you to ask her for more information?” Max still said nothing and stared at her with the scrunched brow and quivering lip, like she was extremely irked. Chloe finally gave her the response she was looking for by nodding and saying, “okay, alright. They _might_ be related.”

“Yeah, don’t mind the peanut gallery or anything,” Steph remarked aloud from the laptop. “Can you love birds hurry it up already?” Chloe returned to the computer screen, where Steph smugly smiled while her eyes continued to ostensibly trail over walls of text. Chloe pressed the unmute button, ready to fire off the sassiest reply that she could muster when Max beat her to it.

“You two have some catching up to do with the phrase ‘love birds’.” Steph pulled her beanie down over her face, Aubrey covered her own red cheeks, but Chloe just bursted out laughing. Finally, somebody brought it up. Steph had so been preening for Aubrey’s attention, and the beach blonde herself had been fixing her hair before the call had even started. They had been sneaking glances at each other the entire call. Aubrey adjusted her camera and cleared her throat, ready to ignore the implication.

“Moving along,” she quickly said, changing the subject. “I’ve been looking into ways we can trace calls.”

“He’s yet to use a proper number yet,” Chloe reminded her as Steph chimed in.

“There’s always a way around it, like an internet footprint.”

“What have you got?” Max asked Steph who remained glued to her screen, staring at unseen items on her end.

“He deleted his profiles across the board, unsure if he’s covering his tracks or not. He probably has an online alias or pseudonym. We all do.”

“Can we get an email address for him?” Aubrey jumped on the thought. Max immediately scooted closer to Chloe, putting her hands on the keyboard and mouse.

“Actually,” Max began, pulling up the internet browser and typing in the link to Blackwell Academy’s old site, “he had a student email like everyone else. That could get us somewhere, right?”

“Its years old, but we might get something from it. I guess,” Steph remarked.

“Good thinking, Max!” Chloe said energetically, realizing they had the makings of a cyber-forensics team going on. Blackwell’s site was still around, preserved for posterity according to its home page. The image of Jeremiah Blackwell’s statue was stamped to the middle of the page banner, a relic of the school’s founder. “It looks like the site’s archived, can we still work with that?”

“So we’re in agreement that the authorities can’t be trusted?” Aubrey checked, once again surprising Chloe. _How much have we corrupted this poor woman?_ The assertion was shared by Chloe and certainly Max, but it was fantasy to suggest they weren’t a factor.

“After today, they’re already involved,” Chloe said. The police had been given all pertinent information that Chloe could give on Eliot, but they weren’t as forthcoming in return, obviously. “It’ll be impressive when we find him if the cops can’t do it.”

“I’m willing to bet we can pull it off,” Aubrey said, determined. _I just want him gone, forever. I want to forget about him like I’ve done for the past five years._ She could almost feel his hands groping her like in the dreams, the fear intensified by the cannabis in her system.

“Chloe, sweetheart,” Max whispered, reaching out for her. Chloe realized she had started to edge her seat, on the cusp of falling off entirely. Max eased her back into the proper sitting position, cupping the side of her face. “Deep breaths?” Chloe followed her advice, the toxic idea of Eliot anywhere near her body slowly dissipating as Max kept repeating the commands, keeping her eyes honed in on her lover’s beautiful blues. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I love you, Max. Thanks,” Chloe said, slouching over to land a kiss on the brunette’s cheek. Max obliged her by moving closer and turning her face so the strawberry blonde could successfully plant one. Back on the computer screen, Steph was loudly typing away on her computer, a reminder that she had an open mic that captured every sound in the background.

“You doin’ what I think you’re doin’?” asked Aubrey to Steph, who nodded with a smirk.

“Yup, trying to break that Blackwell archive page. If its HTML or XML, this will be child’s play.” Chloe returned the favor, bringing her chair as close as she could to Max’s side. Soon after, Max wrapped her arms around the crossfaded punk, kissing her repeatedly and slowly on the cheek while running a delicate hand across her stomach, and another around her back. Chloe felt like a dog getting showered in affection by her master.

“Please, don’t put on a show for us,” Aubrey casually dropped while in the middle of plundering the Blackwell archive. Chloe giggled at the idea, and her hands moved up past Max’s and began to unbutton her pajama top from the top down. The photographer swatted her hands away, and when Chloe tried to fight it, Max seized both of her hands and placed them into Chloe’s lap. The punk slowly turned her head, winking at a Max who stared back at her with an inquisitive quirk.

“It’s coming off sooner or later, babe,” quipped Chloe. When Max lifted her hands away from Chloe’s wrists, and Chloe decided to behave, the photographer posed another question.

“What can we do with his email address if we find it?”

“Find any service or website he’s signed up for, which means IP addresses,” Steph stated, still deep in her search. “Make no mistake, this kind of spelunking takes time and there’s no guarantee we find an active account.

“It will be like six years old,” Max added, to which Steph nodded.

“An old email can connect to newer or personal ones. Besides, you’re telling me you never used a student discount online before?”

“Could we try baiting him?” suggested Aubrey, to which both Max and Steph shook their heads. Chloe really didn’t want to invite the creep to mess with her, it was already bad enough.

“Not possible if he keeps using withheld numbers, but the obvious police presence didn’t deter him after the first few times…”

“Wait,” Chloe perked up. “First few times?”

“Yeah, that car that chased you guys. I figured it was him, am I wrong?” Steph placed a knuckle against her forehead, still buried in her quest to unearth Eliot’s cyber presence. “Got my ears open if you’ve anything more to add to that.” Truthfully, Chloe hadn’t known that Steph knew about the tail. She and Max gave each other quick confused glances before Aubrey began typing with a nonplussed frown. A private message showed up from Aubrey, that said she was sorry but it came up. Chloe stuck her tongue out, unsure if she actually cared whether Steph knew that much. Keeping the facts from her was for Steph’s safety more than anything.

“Imagine if he used a Google account or something,” Steph remarked as she exhaled and cracked both hands on screen. “If I got into that, we’d have access to everything he’d link. You guys think he’d be the type of moron to link everything through Google?”

“I hope so. I’m so ready to bluepill myself,” Chloe responded, giving Max another quick peck on the cheek.

“Not allowed, Chloe.” Max pulled her tighter, letting Chloe close her eyes and space out.

Chloe really needed this tonight; a support group dealing with her problem and a reminder that she had true friends, even in a world where she felt so isolated and had nobody around. Uncle Aaron and Aunt Dorothy were all she had left when it came to family, and the little bits of cash they had sent didn’t make up for the excuses they had given Chloe when she tried to reach out and visit them. Hell, Max and her had even asked them to come visit like the Caulfields did once a year, but that was simply too much of a burden on their part. Her own flesh and blood couldn’t make time for her, and that was factoring in the news that Chloe was all that remained of William Price’s family. In times like these, she was so thankful to have Max by her side. Her companion understood everything about Chloe, from the type of toothbrush she used to her late night thoughts and her darkest confessions. Chloe in return knew everything there was to know about Max, and their bond was so much more than simply lovers. It was more than best friends, more than soul mates. Chloe couldn’t explain it, but she had to make sure Max knew every waking moment that Chloe would never stop loving her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say anything you want  
> But talk will get you nowhere  
> The only thing you brought is psychological warfare  
> Well there's no getting off  
> And now you got to wonder  
> Who will dig you out when you're six feet under


	6. Setting the Stakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a recent injury involving a handgun, I may be late in updating the next chapter. Here's to hoping I can meet my week deadline. Until then, enjoy.

#  **Chapter Five: Setting the Stakes**

**_Tuesday, April 12_ ** **_th_ ** **_, 2:34PM_ **

Last night Max had been the one taking care of Chloe, which was uncommon for their relationship but not a task she was opposed to. Max would never be able to make up for how often her girlfriend dealt with her on the worst days. Chloe had ultimately fallen asleep with ease around ten, which had left Max to do some digging on her own with Aubrey. The criminology major needed a soft talking to, so Max had given her one about divulging more information than required. Steph needn’t learn about their double lives, and certainly would be better off that way. Once the two girls had moved past that, Aubrey had found an address for the Hampden family, though the records were half a decade old. It was a start as far as Max had been concerned, and they had relayed it to their dataminer over in Florida. When Max had felt accomplished with their cyber-investigation for the night, she had finally rested in bed aside a snoring Chloe, allowing herself to fall asleep.

The next morning went as usual for the women as Chloe prepared, albeit extremely hungover, to head in to work. Max tried her best to ministrate for her girlfriend, packing Chloe’s lunch and giving the strawberry blonde punk reassurance that their financial stability wasn’t in jeopardy. As a matter of fact, Max had plans to see just how much she could contribute to their safety net, in a scene Tobias had turned her on to. The group was mostly people Tobias and his family trusted, which made it very out of character for him to have suggested the idea. It was gambling, after all, so there was no way he had brought it up out of pity or with her financial state in mind. That confusion had only been made stronger when she had brought it up with Chloe, who had told her it sounded fun but wasn’t something that they should be doing right now. Max had to agree, she wasn’t wasting away their hard earned cash on games of chance.

Rather than touch their savings, Max had decided to use something that she had nearly forgotten about; a portion of the five grand from her Blackwell tuition had never been spent, and she had only found out after some digging with mom and dad. Max had loved seeing Chloe’s eyes light up, and how fast she had nearly jumped into Max’s arms when she told the punk the good news. Although they hadn’t decided how to allocate the bulk of that leftover cash, Chloe thought Max should make some decisions on how to spend it. In her opinion, which Max thought was sweet but too generous of Chloe, that money still belonged to Max. No way was she blowing all of that tuition on bullshit, so Max and Chloe had set aside the bulk of it for emergencies.

Max hoped that this day was going to be a bit of the same as the last two visits. The photographer would show up to a designated place, usually a large home or private place with several other regulars and strangers, to play some low-stakes Blackjack. The catch was that this type of gambling was illegal in California, which meant that the phrase ‘low stakes’ was quite different compared the regular definition. _As in, bets that are way higher than tens or twenties._ The photographer was taking risks by trying it out, but so far she had been successful and had made off with about a hundred or so dollars from the last three meetups. Who would’ve thought that Max Caulfield would be engaged in _illegal_ gambling, much less gambling at all?

Unlike the other regulars of the group, Max had _time_ on her side, though she hadn’t used her powers yet. The temptation had been there since the first loss, but Max did not want to overextend herself or cause any unwanted side effects. The brunette saw the appeal to gambling, but also addiction as other players had been blowing wads of cash like it was nothing. She still wished that she could be that well off, because at least on the normal side of life money could solve every one of her and Chloe’s problems.

Today, they had been given instruction to meet in a sports bar about thirty minutes away from Crestfall Complex. Max had actually opted to walk instead of taking a bus, as the day had a nice, cool forecast of around seventy Fahrenheit by noon. Once inside, she told the hostess that she was part of the _Weston Reservation—_ a pseudonym used by the event planner to rent out a private area where they would not be disturbed. She considered whether this place was owned by one of Tobias’s friends in high places, considering the public nature of it all. What if somebody just opened the door on them, accidentally? It was something to worry about, but she would at least be safe given her _own_ precautions.

Max was led past the sleek green liquor rack, taking note of men much older than she had ever expected to see at a restaurant bar in the afternoon. There was no jukebox, pool table or dart boards, so Chloe would have hated this place, though Max believed her father might enjoy the _Seattle Thunderbirds_ flag draped across one end of the bar.

Once inside the party room—which made the rest of the place pale in comparison with a fresh coat of burgundy on the wall and tapestry patterned along the top edge—Max was given direction to leave her camera bag at the edge of the room and was then asked to fan out her pockets, roll up her sleeves, pant legs, and other practical places to hide contraband like extra cards. _I thought you guys trusted me, it's been like three meetups_ . It was a simple task, as Max only had to temporarily remove her hoodie and fan out her pockets. Her Jane Doe shirt had no sleeves. Something that had hit her as the cursory examination concluded was how little she had worn this outfit since her time at Blackwell Academy. It carried very negative connotations of a life she had left behind, where Max had been quiet, reserved, indecisive and utterly afraid of the real world. Sometimes, Max wished she could have some of those qualities back. After years of neglecting the outfit, she had thrown it all together without a moment’s hesitation. _I’ve almost thrown it into the garbage three times. I can’t believe I’m not shaking thinking about it now._

Once all the members of the Weston Reservation arrived, they started as quietly as they could. Three groups slowly formed around the large dining table, all in sixes, as the usual attendees dished out the playing mats and shuffled the decks of fifty-two cards. The establishment owners didn’t know what was _really_ going on behind the locked door, and Max liked not to think about how much money they had either been paid to not worry or just didn’t care. The people in this room hadn’t ever bet less than forty or fifty in one bet, and Max had struggled to keep up even the time Tobias had been with her. They didn’t use chips and required players to have twenty times the minimum bet on them, which in this case totalled $300. Max was carrying triple that amount, and she still couldn’t believe that she was cracking her knuckles and clearing her throat, staring over a table with five people she had never seen before, prepared to ante up.

Black Jack was straightforward enough. Just like the game with nearly identical rules, the goal of the game was to achieve a card score of twenty one or less, beating the dealer’s card pairing. Max had played 21, Rummy, Hierarchy and War before, but the intensity of fooling around with a few family or class mates was nearly zilch compared to the thrill of the risk and rewards here. The starting bet was thirty-five, and all but one person decided to match it. Max didn’t bleat about it, though she felt a sudden itch on the back of her head. _Please don’t get nerve-wracked now._

She held her breath as the old bearded man with an olive complexion dealt out two cards to each player at their side of the table, eventually placing one face-down and one up in front of himself. The photographer had often been called nosy in the past, but in this moment in which she was flanked by people who likely made several more zeros on their paychecks than Max, she kept her blues on the white tablecloth and the hairy arms of the dealer. His card facing up was a Queen of Clubs, which Max had learned fast would startle even veteran players from risking their bets. As for Max herself, she had been given a somewhat hopeful round of a Six of Hearts and a Ten of Hearts. She laid her hands on the edge of the table and placed one foot on top of the other, contemplating what her move should be. Immediately to the left of the old man, she heard the older blonde woman request the dealer to hit her, prompting the short brunette to peek anyway. The woman’s Queen of Diamonds and Five of Hearts had not been enough, it seemed, as the dealer slapped down an Eight of Hearts. The blonde woman sighed disconcertedly, busting after her second of valor.

Beside her, a man who appeared to be in the _Generation X_ age range, with light dark facial hair and a specially tailored suit, stood pat with an Ace of Hearts, which could count for one or eleven, and a Nine of Spades. _Exactly twenty. Wowser, I can’t wait to see him flaunt it._ This man wasn’t so much a stranger as he was a stickler since she had seen him attend at least one other meeting, but he always had an air of haughtiness to him that was almost virulent; between his belittling of lower waging players and exaggerated luck, Max had almost left the room due to his toxicity. It often seemed like he had gotten in good with the conductors, and that could have been the only reason he was tolerated. Max had to control her desire to scoff while he grinned widely, like a predator facing his prey, and folded his arms.

“Hit,” Max requested in a voice too quiet, though the bearded man had heard and dealt her a Four of Diamonds. Twenty, but not twenty one. This wasn’t too bad of an opening after all, she mused to herself as she nodded. The third and fourth players, one younger man with designer glasses and another business-type Boomer, both requested a hit and managed to stay in. _Okay, first round is going smoothly. Let’s hope that Caulfield luck of the Irish kicks in._ The dealer took one glance at the table of cards and flipped his hidden card up.

The dealer had twenty, with the addition of a Jack of Hearts. He chuckled at the quagmire on the table, in which nobody had beaten the dealer, but rather, Max and the Gen-Xer had matched him. In other words, she hadn’t gained or lost her money this round. It was very early into the game, but Max felt a sense of relief that she hadn’t had to hear the man beside her blabber on or bear witness to another elitist laugh away their money as if it was pocket change. It _would_ be coming, sooner or later. The same couldn’t be said for the business man and mister designer glasses faces as Max saw their uncomfortable faces. The dealer mercilessly collected their money, each of them having fallen short of topping his hand.

Just as Max had dreaded, the dark haired Gen-Xer subjected her and the others to his asinine abuse. Only twenty minutes into it, and the photographer was regretting her decision not to kick him in the balls and rewind. She had been on a serious losing streak; by now she had to have blown about a hundred or so dollars, and it was wearing on her conscience enough without having to hear the classist beside her yammer on. On the upside, she had just won the last two hands, so perhaps she was giving herself too much shit. He thought it was amusing that she was taking the low bet while everyone else had increased their ante.

“I guess that’s all we can expect,” he remarked, rather passive-aggressively to the short brunette. Max lost her breath for a moment, clicking her tongue in annoyance while the dealer prepared for their next round. She had refused to even face the rude man beside her let alone justify his words with a response, as she wasn’t sure whether anxiety or the impulse to lash out would take over.

“Leave the woman alone, Dexter. Christ,” the older blonde grumbled, side-eyeing both Max and the Gen-Xer. From her peripheral, Max saw him shrug his shoulders, wearing the ravenous grin that had become his creepy trademark. Max started taking hushed breaths as not to attract further ire. She just wanted to get on with the match, but so far this meeting had been rather nauseating on her head.

She stared down at her two cards, an Ace of Diamonds accompanied by a Five of Hearts. It wasn’t too shabby a hand, a few positive words of encouragement circled the table. The dealer had also laid down an Ace, which had only happened twice in Max’s time with the clandestine group before now. One grunt from the older blonde piqued the photographer’s interest enough for her to perk up and look around the table to see some tense faces.

“Anyone wanna put down some insurance?” asked the dealer, opening and clasping his hand in a gesture to cough up a side bet. Max had no expectations, but the consensus seemed to be that nobody was particularly scared enough to fork up an insurance bet.

“I have an idea,” Dexter began, nearly boisterous enough to make Max’s head ache. _Please just shut up._ She lowered her head, an obvious jab that seemed to be ignored. There had to be two words she could use to describe this guy, two concise and clear words to attribute to him. “You’ve been on a little streak, lady.” He pressed down on the table and leaned in her direction, prompting Max to suppress her gut-reaction to reel away. “What if I ride your bet with one of my own?”

As before, the older blonde woman shook her head in pity that Dexter had started to hone in on Max for the upteenth time. Max felt the annoyance and apprehension everywhere; from her crinkling toes to her hands squeezing the edge of her gray jacket, she had the urge to disappear and run away from the table. At the same time, there were other things Max felt that the people at this table would have no inkling of. Despite the incertitude in both Max and on the table, she turned to stare at him with an almost bitter countenance.

“Is that allowed?” asked the man with designer glasses, who appeared to be exchanging glances with everyone present. The bearded man nodded his head yes, slowly coming closer to the table with all eyes now on Max. An answer was expected.

 _I don’t know what he’s trying to accomplish here. Harassing an outsider who looks like she makes less than you’ve ever held in your hand?_ Yes, it was very possible that the dark-haired Gen-Xer was merely tooling with her, but she had had quite enough of it. “I know I’ll win,” Max hissed, forcing a smile. “Go for it.”

“I know you’ll win too, genius,” he snapped back with his eyes rolling off to the right. “I’ll wager a thousand on her hand, and she can keep five percent of it. How’s that sound?” There were a lot of things one could say to shake Max up, but this one had nearly dropped her eyes from their sockets. It was back to flaunting his money, this time on everyone else at the table instead of just her. Already, Max could hear some tired groans travel across the table.

“Oh, that’s just perfect,” Max replied cheekily, gesturing for the dealer to hit her. When the next card was laid down on top of her Ace and Five, she nearly chortled at the look on everyone’s faces. Another Five sat comfortably on top of her two cards, a perfect twenty-one. She had won the round alright, but her next move—one which had been a split-second decision—left her cards irrelevant.

“I’m out,” Max said cynically, backing away from the table. “I fold.” What ensued was music to Max’s ears, as every person at the table gasped at her concession.

“You _what_?” asked the man named Dexter, hands slightly twitchy as his jaw dropped in Max’s direction. As for the rest of them, well, Max didn’t care at the moment. Inhaling while shutting her eyes in a momentary peace, Max began to laugh, even raising a hand to her lips.

“I said, I fold. You just lost your ante. I’m sure that’s nothing for someone like you, though?” The older blonde lowered her head as her shoulders rose, revealing her sudden amusement at Max’s vengeance.

“You little bitch!” shouted Dexter, earning some staring eyes from the other games in the room. “You can’t do this,” he argued, slamming his fists on the table so hard that the cards shifted around them. “Tell her she can’t do this!”

“I’m afraid I get to take your money,” the dealer said with almost the same satisfaction Max had felt, watching the Gen-Xer lose his mind over such an arrogant play. “The lass is done with us, and with you.” So, the rest of the table had also grown tired of his shit _. Too bad they felt the need to keep quiet._ She needed a few more moments of it, though, as Dexter groveled with the dealer. Silently waltzing over to her camera bag, Max removed the traditional Price Polaroid camera, bending her knees slightly as she aimed the camera at the man who she had just utterly embarrassed. _Better make this fast. They’ll notice soon enough._ Of course, it was merely his ego. Unless the man had been lying about the wealth he so often flaunted, he would be fine.

She took the photo as he continued his feud with the bearded man, dragging in designer glasses and the older blonde into the fight. It was loud enough to hide the mechanical print of Max’s new photo, as she characteristically shook the polaroid several times before sliding it into her jacket pocket.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” the quiet business-like Boomer, who had remained out of the argument at the table, said to Max while leaning back to shoot her a sly glance. She figured it would be best to keep them talking, so she could make her way back over to the table. Max nodded, packing the camera back into her bag. If she was going to savor this memory, she had to keep the photo on her person during her rewind. Such were the ostensible laws of her powers, and perhaps a universe that wasn’t understood at all.

“I’d say. He’s had it coming for a while,” Max remarked, watching Dexter finally drop into his seat, arms folded like a petulant child. _Exactly what he is. Hmm, maybe one more photo wouldn’t hurt._ Eyes were beginning to fall on her as she started to inch her way back to the table, likely realizing she had just taken a picture of an illegal gambling den. She felt too vindicated to lose her composure right now.

“You would say that, Miss Caulfield.” Max hadn’t told anybody her last name, and nobody had ever shared theirs so openly. This man was somebody who wasn’t a regular, as far as she knew, but the longer he stared, his dimpled cheeks widening as if some monster preparing to strike, the longer Max’s gut told her to plan for a hasty retreat. “So easy for somebody with your talents to just hit the ‘rewind’ button, isn’t it?”

The fighting at the table ceased, each participant now baffled and their attention placed on either the short brunette who squeezed the edge of her jacket’s pocket flaps and squinted her eyes, or the quiet player who had risen from his seat and reached into his blazer. With the only escape route being the door directly behind this man, Max felt like a cornered animal.

“What the hell are you talking about?” somebody from another group shouted haphazardly before Max saw the motions she had anticipated. The man who knew her name was reaching for a something inside of his suit, and no doubt intended to turn it on her. If she moved her hands to rewind or made any sudden moves at all, she might not live long enough to even time travel, but Max had to do something fast before this _did_ become a point of no return.

The photographer lunged forward, but the strange man foresaw her maneuver and drew the metallic object she knew had been coming. Max nearly stumbled as she hit the table hard with her shoulder until the legs were off the ground. She didn’t stop there, instead pushing it with her shoulders, ignoring the shuffling feet and scream as she slammed the massive table into the would-be shooter. The Max Caulfield of long ago who would’ve gotten queasy at even little things, like the sight of blood, had died a long time ago, replaced with a hardened, vigilant time traveller who would live to see another day.

Max saw the panic in the room as multiple players fled from their private gathering, busting open the door to the rest of the bar and grill and bolting across the establishment. Though she had staggered both the man and other players, he still had the gun in his hand. Max’s only chance to escape was now, and when she was safe enough, she could rewind this entire fucking day. _Thank god for the daily selfie, thank god._ Max got to her feet and made for the door when two more players cut in front of her for the exit, struggling to even see the light from the bright sunny day from the grill’s front windows.

“Fucking freeze,” Max heard from her left, as she obeyed without even thinking of it. The man gained a foot or two on her instantly, her mistake for complying. He cupped a hand over her mouth as she moved to scream for help, her eyes wider than they had ever been. The man pinned her into the nearest wall and shoved the gun into her chest, his nostrils flaring and lips twitching. The only thing she felt was the weight of the barrel against her T-shirt as he clasped down on her mouth harder. “The Yatagarasu’s been looking for you, you know that Miss Caulfield? That detective? Easy. Then, your little buddy in Florida? Fuck, that one was hard. And now you.”

As he continued speaking, it was almost like he was slobbering over capturing Max and holding her at gunpoint. She had spent weeks ruminating on what had gone wrong with Mr. Wright, but she hadn’t expected something as sinister as this; the detective had been all-but assassinated, but when it came to people working for the Yatagarasu she had always assumed Hugh Olhouser had been a fluke. To think that the Yatagarasu could influence more than just that crazed maniac was a reasonable conclusion and frankly, one that now slapped her across the face as she felt like she was moments away from death.

What was worse was the insinuation that they had found Connor, who had been an instrumental part of Olhouser and the Yatagarasu’s plan to create a storm unlike anything humanity had ever seen. Connor was powerful enough to conjure up entire lightning storms if he set his mind to it, and he was still learning how to control that disastrous ability. There was no way Max could stop this all from happening if they had their hands on Connor, and even more so if she was about to join Mr. Wright. Her nerves were shot, every limb in her body shivering from the immense fear response. Is this what Chloe had felt those years ago when Nathan Prescott had shoved a gun into her gut?

“Once I finish up with you, then we move on your weathermancer.” In the heat of the moment, even Max caught that inconsistency. Only moments before, he had implied they already had Connor. Now, he spoke as if they didn’t. She _then_ remembered exactly what Chloe had done to survive her assault. Yes, it had taken divine intervention and other details Max didn’t care for in the moment to save her, but her girlfriend had certainly done more than just sit there and take it. Chloe had fought back once Nathan had been distracted. If this man intended to ramble, then he had made his last error. Max let him talk for a second or two more, gaining the strength to do what was required to survive before she brought her knee as fiercely and as bluntly as she possibly could into his groin.

The man wobbled backwards, reeling from the pain when Max took the next opening. She wasn’t sure if it was unbridled rage or an urge to get control of the situation. The Yatagarasu henchman hadn’t seen it coming and when he braced for her next brash rush for his gun, he lost his footing and fell backwards over the flipped table. On the ground at Max’s feet now sat the metal gun, presumably loaded and ready to be fired. Max seized it without even a second thought, taking a step forward to see the dazed man coming to his senses. She began to scowl at him and everything he represented. The Yatagarasu had taken years of her life away from her, had forced Max to watch her back nearly every time she went outside the safety of their home, when even that safety was an illusion. She wasn’t truly safe from the Yatagarasu no matter where she went and perhaps she had only been delaying the inevitable. This man had clearly come to kill her.

“Put that down,” he said, a fear-stricken face present. Max didn’t put it down, and took another step forward, hovering only a few feet from his head. She wanted to shove the gun into his mouth, make him beg or divulge information on the whereabouts of Connor or the Yatagarasu’s other people. She wanted to do a lot of things, and as the thoughts of anger, of putting an end to all of this crashed around in her mind like a violent tide, she realized how close she was to the point of no return. She was moments, no, _seconds_ away from pulling the trigger and killing this man out of no other reason than that ruthlessness she had been battling with for _months_ now.

Max Caulfield was a lot of things, but she didn’t want to be a cold-blooded murderer, no matter how deplorable or despicable the person was. Even if it hadn’t been at her hands, too many people had already perished because of her. Max retracted her stare from down at the man close to begging for mercy to the gun, retracing her footsteps until she was pressed against the opened door. The henchman had not moved from his spot in the mess of chairs and tables. Max dropped the gun to the floor, her shivering spine and anxious wits taking hold in place of the murderous fury that had sparked up only moments earlier. There was only one thing she could do to make this right, her hands already fumbling for her bag on the floor. Shakily, she hoisted the camera bag over her shoulder and started digging through its contents until she gripped the photo she had taken in the dawning hours of the day.

Despite it being a selfie, Max was not smiling as she somberly stared into the camera, with Chloe stretching her arms in the background. She began to focus on the photograph, even as the man sprawled out in the mess ahead of her stirred. Her eyes began to hurt as the imagery on the photo shimmered, almost coming alive. She could hear Chloe’s yawning, the click of the flash and the traffic from outside their bedroom window. She hadn’t had to use a photo to reset time for quite a while, but as the world around her transformed and she closed her eyes, suddenly everything went quiet. The sounds from the Caulfield-Price morning constitutions had disappeared, replaced with an absolute silence instead.

“We both know how easily you could’ve eliminated the threat.” Like a giant set of jaws had clamped down on Max’s head and squeezed, she cried out in pain and dropped to her knees, the photo falling out of her hands. Her focus had been shattered, the pain too severe to even make the jump.

Max opened her eyes, wincing from discomfort in her head, to look around the room and witness it suspended in time. Everything was still, entirely still, and whenever this happened, horrible things followed. She grabbed the photo off of the ground, sliding it into her jacket’s pocket. Once, it had been when her powers went haywire during an old friend’s suicide attempt, and then last year when facing off with the crazy old man hiding in Arcadia Bay’s remains. In the latter incident, which brought an even stronger shiver to Max, the phantom Yatagarasu had finally revealed himself. The voice speaking to her now, echoing from an unseen person in this anomaly with her, was none other than the Yatagarasu himself.

“Go fuck yourself,” Max managed in a hoarse whisper, frantically looking around the room to see nothing but the crashed table, debilitated henchman, and an open door with the outside world just as frozen. _God, it hurts so bad._ Her hand found purchase on the bartop outside the room, barely taking in the emptied restaurant and the busy streets through the windows. The Yatagarasu was nowhere to be found, yet.

“No,” came the phantom’s voice, somewhere above her. “It cost me a great deal to make this connection. Time isn’t cheap.” Despite the constant squeezing agony in her head, Max suspected that had been an attempt at a joke.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Max screamed through the pain, wanting to do nothing but make it go away. If he was the one doing this to her, he was a sadistic and evil son of a bitch. She wouldn’t have wished this pain even on Mark Jefferson.

“Sometime soon Max, there will come a time when you can’t hesitate. You’ll have to commit to pulling the trigger, or else you’ll lose everything.”

“No!” she screamed again, whimpering as she continued for the front of the store, barely able to walk straight. “Nobody else is dying! I already stopped you.” The photographer, unable to stand due to the crushing weight in her head, fell down onto the floor where she hardly caught herself. Her shoulder was throbbing now too, barely noticeable over her head pains. She had slammed the table hard enough to ostensibly dislocate it, though that was the least of her worries.

“Why do you resist?” questioned the Yatagarasu. “Why not accept fate?”

“And whose fate is that, exactly?” Max coughed, pushing herself onto her knees before clutching at her head and reeling over once more. “Gah. Fuck! The universe isn’t your play thing and neither are all of these people’s lives.”

“Says the pot to the kettle, who was willing to waste her talents on a petty card game.” There was a short pause which felt as if it stretched on for minutes due to the immense misery Max was in. It had gotten even worse than she had ever experienced from time travel, her head ready to explode. “Do you truly think you’re going to save everyone or is this just another moral fallacy you’ve created to justify what you did to Arcadia Bay, when you saved your precious renegade?”

That was something Max had often tried to forget. She had to learn her lessons not once, but twice. She had let an entire town die because she couldn’t stomach the thought of losing Chloe in a cruel universal glitch, perhaps even brought upon by Max’s doing. No matter what decision Max made, she always carried guilt and regret. She had blood on her hands. She had let a few thousand people die in Arcadia Bay, yet chose to save Connor and his friends to avert an even bigger disaster and now, Max was back to the crushing reality that the Yatagarasu was a time traveller like her, with far more experience and a scheme to reshape the planet. She was the only person remotely capable of stopping him, and she had no idea how to fucking do it. Except, when Max thought about it, she _had_ to be stopping it right now. This phantom was reaching out to her, to try and twist her somehow. Which meant that something wasn’t going the way he had thought it would. Max knew best that time could be distorted and messed with, but it seemingly had an agenda of its own. The Yatagarasu could only manipulate it, not wield it like a weapon.

Somehow, Max laughed through the pain, wildly looking across the frozen restaurant. She couldn’t see the person she was addressing, but she knew they’d hear her words. “Something isn’t going right for you, because otherwise you wouldn’t be wasting your time here.” Instead of a quick rebuke or reply from the fellow time traveller, there was nothing. Her pain hadn’t let up but she was starting to tolerate it, little by little. Max carefully found her footing again, biting down on her lip as she rose to her feet and tried to keep herself steady. She was almost out of the restaurant. The last time that this had happened, her rewind had failed and she had collapsed onto the muddy ground in the middle of a gun fight. She couldn’t let that happen again. Then, abruptly and chillingly as always, the Yatagarasu responded.

“I don’t want you dead, Caulfield.” _That was a fucking lie._ Max sneered and shook her head at the statement. How much more perverted from the truth could it get?

“Your man in the other room says otherwise,” Max said, groaning as she kept wobbling towards the front door.

“I needed to test your reflexes. Your resolve. You surpassed my expectations with reflex, but your resolve... Even if you didn’t kill him, I can see that there’s new clarity in your eyes.” Checking her surroundings, her eyes traveling across the expensive liquor rack on the wall to the scattered chairs and smaller tables, she couldn’t find the alleged phantom who could ‘see’ her. “Perhaps you’re finally ready to face me. You could be one of the architects of this new world.” All Max could do was laugh while glowering in pain. She had no idea what to say to him. “Year zero is still coming, but neither you nor Connor need to die to make it happen. I have found a new solution.”

The Yatagarasu wasn’t going to change her mind, and she wasn’t going to change his. To her, this phantom seemed to be an unstoppable force, while she was an immovable obstacle. The only solution here, was that one of them disappeared. “I’m not just going to stop you,” Max warned, following it up with a promise she never thought she’d find herself making: “I’m going to kill you, if that’s what it takes.”

“You aren’t safe from me. Nobody is,” declared the Yatagarasu. “No matter where you go, no matter what you do, everything is happening on my terms. Not—” The phantom voice halted without warning as another barrage of stabbing pain hit Max in her head. She grabbed for it, clutching her hair harder and pulled on it as she screamed. There was bile building up in the back of her throat, aggressively pushing for Max to vomit. However, as quickly as the icepick to her cranium had arrived, it had vanished back to discomfort. She began to catch her breath, letting go of her scalp and grabbing at her throbbing chest. A flash of color in the room caught her attention and she jolted when she spotted a trespasser to their time anomaly. The word ‘trespasser’ might have been too kind a word to accurately describe the blonde haired woman.

Rachel Amber was only a table’s length away from Max, her expression hurried and exhausted. Max even thought she could spot bags under her eyes on top of the unkempt hair and dirt-stained hands reaching out to her. It was too surreal for the time traveller to comprehend at first, fixated on how Rachel was actually there. Max could see her jacket, much more grunge in appearance than Chloe’s, her torn up black jeans, and worn out boots. This _was_ Rachel fucking Amber and even if she was missing that blue feather earring found in every photo of the girl, it was still her, older and worn out. Another thought crossed Max’s mind, that the last time she had seen this Rachel or ‘Oracle’ as Olhouser had called her, she had been standing nearly arm and arm with the Yatagarasu, condemning her. This time, Rachel’s face was not one of scorn but one of desperation and numbness.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” barked Rachel to Max, who had already pressed herself against the nearest wall out of confused terror. “You listening, Caulfield? I’m working on fighting them.” _So this is happening. Rachel Amber is talking to me in some kind of time loop_. Max didn’t know how to approach the woman who had inadvertently been such an important part of the photographer’s life.

“A-are you the… real Rachel?” Max inquired, as the woman ahead of her paid her no reply. Rachel looked past her shoulder at something against a bland white wall, like there was something Max wasn’t getting. Maybe she couldn’t see or hear Max, or maybe Max had finally snapped and gone insane.

“They’re holding me against my will, Max,” she exclaimed with pointed brows and a curled lip. “Here, as in, here with _you_. I don’t know where I’m at, but my mom got out. You need to find Sera Gearhardt.” That was a name Max hadn’t heard in a long time, but courtesy of Chloe, she knew it to be Rachel’s biological mother. Regardless, Max had never been more panicked, mortified and confused at the same time as she was now. As if suddenly noticing Max was right in front of her, Rachel stiffened up and moved to grab hold of the brunette’s arms before stopping. Max took her chance.

“How do we stop the Time Prick?” Max watched the blonde’s face contort into one of sad bewilderment.

“Chloe came up with that one, didn’t she?” Max reluctantly nodded, coming to terms that she had quickly uttered out Chloe’s nickname for her antagonist. “I don’t know, Max. I just know you’re the only one who can. You have to check on the boy in Florida. I think someone’s coming for him and—” Slowly materializing behind Rachel was the phantom himself. As Max had seen him the first time, a scene still burned into her memory, the Yatagarasu towered over both girls with a pure white hoodie. Around the face was a black mask wrapped in ivory cloth, contrasting his tiny eyes against the rest of his towering frame.

Max’s heart skipped a beat, wishing to both run for her life and charge him with all her rage. As soon as Rachel took notice of the phantom they both disappeared, leaving Max alone in the frozen time loop until everything began to unravel. Hundreds of different sounds, sweet tastes, fragrances, and emotions danced throughout her consciousness. She reached into her pocket for the photo to focus in on it, the pain slowly disappearing from her head. She couldn’t pass out in the middle of the restaurant with a killer in the other room. She couldn’t. As she did her best to rewind through the photo, things began to sound different than a quiet morning shared with Chloe. The photo disappeared from her hands as everything faded to black.

When Max opened her eyes, her surroundings had grown dark and gloomy. It almost felt like she was still stuck in time, with the edges of the bedroom lost in a light contrasting the darkness. The camera in her hands printed out the photograph as Max felt her girlfriend shift under the sheets behind her. The rewind had been a success. The light of dawn from the outside world had barely crept through their window blinds. As Max sat up and found her footing on the carpet, Chloe murmured something about it being way too early.

 _First thing I need to do is… warn myself to stay away._ Max immediately turned towards her nightstand, opening the drawer to search its contents for pen and paper. Once she located something to write with, she then took a random envelope from the back of the drawer and laid out across the night stand. She found herself distracted by the picture she kept by the lamp of her, Chloe and the others from last Spring. She was doing this for them as much as she was herself, and as she wrote the warning with barely enough light to see it, she felt Chloe’s touch on her lower back. What normally brought her comfort forced a shiver out of Max, thinking back on Rachel Amber. How Chloe would take the news wasn’t something Max could predict, but the time traveler had to worry about safety first.

Max then brought up her phone to text Tobias about the man who had tried to kill her, until she hit a metaphorical wall. How could she even convince him to do something about that man without dragging Toby into this mess? Although, the fact that the gunman had gotten into that group to start with meant somebody _trusted_ him. If she didn’t show up, that would be a start but it didn’t change the fact that he was sulking around. She’d have to find a way to deal with that.

Max inhaled and exhaled despite her shaken breath. Again, she felt a light tingle on her lower back from the punk’s fingertips until Chloe groggily asked if she was alright. Max didn’t know what to say other than, “I love you.”

“You better,” Chloe remarked under her breath, slowly rising to a sitting position. Max looked over her shoulder and saw the rather muzzied strawberry blonde staring aimlessly across their bedroom. “It’s about that time, ain’t it.”

“Unfortunately,” Max said faintly, remembering that Chloe was _so_ not a morning person. “Just gotta finish some things up first.” She returned to the cell phone in her lap, pondering how to change her fate. She wasn’t sure how long the photo rewind would last at this rate, so she did the first two things that came to mind.

#    


_6:05AM Me_

_Connor, it’s Max. Watch yourself today. I had to rewind, and I think you might be in trouble. Please get back to me as soon as you can._

_6:08AM Me_

_Hey, Toby. Change of plans for today. Why don’t you just meet me at the apartment this afternoon? I don’t think I’ll be going out anywhere after all._

#    


The sound of really loud, irritating music filled Max’s ears. With a chill blasting her square in the face, Max opened her eyes to see that she was sprawled out in the backseat of a car with a lightly-colored interior. The noise blaring out of the speakers was some sort of pirate metal, blending violin and shanty-like verses with electric guitar and massive bass. Max was certainly not opposed to sea shanties and pirate themes, but whatever was playing was far too much for her liking. She slowly sat up in the seat, finding her camera bag in the seat next to her and not on her back.

“You finally feeling alright?” Tobias asked over the music from the front seat. From what she could tell, he was wearing a t-shirt a size too small, evidenced by his massive biceps hugging the cuffs. The photographer immediately slipped her hands inside of her bag without answering Toby’s initial question, also giving her jacket a quick check until she found the picture from this morning, but not of an angry man at the game. Although she had so many questions and an acute sense of urgency to figure out what was going on, a ghost of the pain in her head lingered on, agitated by the metal. Tobias ostensibly noticed, because he turned the music down. “I figured it would finally wake you up.”

“What time is it?” Max asked weakly, before checking her pockets to find her cell phone. The time read 2:40 in the afternoon, and several new messages had popped up. Max suspected that she was coming to around the same time as when she had tried rewinding in the other timeline. That meant her powers were working as intended, for a change.

“You started acting all disoriented and stuff. You do remember that we just left the mall, right?” Tobias inquired. “I didn’t think you’d fall asleep in the back seat..” Max lightly touched her forehead and groaned, staring out the back window of Toby’s Lexus. The weather outside, along with the city blocks and busybodies on the sidewalks were exactly the same as before. No freaky eclipses, no sudden snowstorms, nothing out of the ordinary. Max let out a sigh of relief, turning back to the windshield and Tobias.

“Yeah, um, I wasn’t feeling too good. What do you think happened?” wondered Max, to which Tobias shifted in the driver seat uncomfortably. In retrospect, Max thought her question was pretty stupid too.

“What do you mean _think_ happened? I was there and so were you!” There was plenty to what Max had meant. Everyone was in danger, and Rachel fucking Amber wanted Max to find Sera Gearhardt. Somebody was also coming for Connor, too. Mr. Wright had been killed over this. Oh, and Max could rewind time. _How will I even explain this to Chloe?_ There was also the chance that this was all some convoluted ruse meant to ensnare Max and her allies, given that the last time she had seen this Rachel had been on hostile terms in a time loop not unlike the latest. The possibilities were endless, and she hated that fact.

“We were in the dollar store when you collapsed. You sure you don’t need to see a doc?” Right. Max remembered their plans for the day were to begin after he picked her up from the bar and grill, originally. The mall had been one of many proposed places for them to visit. “I didn’t know you were feeling this bad, Max,” he remarked, motioning with an open palm.

“Trust me, Toby. I didn’t know, either,” Max replied, blinking twice as her head continued to hurt. She’d had enough of needlessly risky scenes after today, especially with a warning that she wasn’t safe, no matter where she went. That had always been obvious, but a fact that the photographer chose to ignore to try and have some semblance of a life. She was wasting time, instead of finding a way to keep everybody safe. “Everything’s been okay for you today, though?”

“You’ve been with me all day, Max. You’re being hella weird,” Tobias said, attentive to the road.

There was something else Max had to remember, and it wasn’t pretty. She had come very close to pulling the trigger on that man. It was nothing she hadn’t done before. A situation with a Frank Bowers with an unloaded gun came to mind, but she hadn’t _known_ that at the time. This time, though, there had been more than just self-preservation or worries about Chloe’s safety. This time, she had been angered and eager. That shocked and bothered the hell out of Max, and for the rest of the car ride, she remained relatively silent. Tobias mainly led the conversation, driving through a few neighborhoods they both recognized and then back to Max’s apartment at Crestfall. After Tobias had caught her up to speed on their relatively peaceful day, Max rested her eyes and plugged in earbuds. It was difficult to hide her mood from the nordic-like man driving beside her, so no emotion at all was better than dumping what she was carrying.

#    


_6:05AM Me_

_Connor, it’s Max. Watch yourself today. I had to rewind, and I think you might be in trouble. Please get back to me as soon as you can._

_9:20AM Atmo-Man_

_You can’t just say that and then not tell me what’s happening._

_9:24AM Me_

_The note I left said to tell you that._

_9:32AM Atmo-Man_

_Okay what?_

_9:40AM Me_

_Something happened and it was so bad that I had to use a photograph to jump back in time. No, I don’t know. Just ask me later. Don’t you remember how this works?_

_10:30AM Atmo-Man_

_Ohhh shit, u rite. I’ve been practicing for Max’s corrective rewind drills every weekend. Thanks for looking out and be safe yourself_

_10:34AM Me_

_Sorry, Mall fuck._

_3:00PM Me_

_Somebody tried to kill me today and they were brainwashed like Olhouser. They said somebody was coming for you, too. Please tell me you’re doing well._

_3:14PM Atmo-Man_

_I’m so fucking sorry omg. I’m here, with Steph and a few other people. Its gonna be hard not to tell her if she sees my face right now. What did they look like?_

_3:26PM Me_

_It won’t be the same person. I’ll call you later. Please, please watch out._

_3:28PM Atmo-Man_

_Thanks Max. I hope you’re holding up alright._

#    


They had arrived back at the apartment around three-thirty, at which point Max had decided to head off to bed and rest while Tobias had plans involving her kitchen and the groceries they had purchased. Max hadn’t really wanted to leave him alone in the apartment as she felt that wouldn’t have been fun if the roles were reversed, but he had been insistent on it. The hours had rolled by and Max hadn’t changed or even crawled under the sheets. She had simply been stuck on what had happened, though over time she had started to smell something fairly delicious. Tobias must have been cooking something, possibly to surprise Chloe. Sadly, that wasn’t turning her mood around.

Even laying there as she was, somebody could be watching and waiting on the Yatagarasu’s whim. If she truly wasn’t safe no matter what, then what mattered anymore? What could she do with what little information she had? Chloe already had Eliot on her plate and he claimed to know way too much. Connor made it sound like he was safe, even though there wasn’t a snowball’s chance that he was.

Her enemy was someone who was frustratingly similar, but also vastly beyond her own capabilities. The way he had spoken today was almost like he respected her, and then the nonsense about her and Connor joining him had come even more as a surprise, given the past enmity between her and the other time traveller. _Another reminder that I don’t know if I can trust Rachel._

The worn out photographer tossed and turned, and even at one point she had stared directly into their mirror leaning against the wall. Her brunette hair had begun to inch down and past her shoulders, and couldn’t have seemed any messier. Max probably needed to worry more about herself than others at some point. She was losing more than just _time_ in this fight.

Her harried reflection was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Tears formed in her eyes and her lips began to quiver. Max curled up into a ball, hugging her knees and started to sob silently into the sheets. How was it that she somehow had an amazing woman like Chloe, two loving, supportive parents, friends who understood her situation and an omnipotent power that could change the universe, yet she wasn’t allowed to be happy? This burden was savage, it was wicked, and so much had been destroyed in its wake. Max had so much to cry over, from Arcadia Bay and Chloe, to Kate Marsh and Seattle, and her loss of innocence. It had started with Nathan Prescott and Jefferson, and there was no end in sight. She had witnessed horrible things like kidnapping and murder, and her own mind working against her as time and reality had ripped itself apart on multiple occasions. She had almost seen Connor, mad with fury, fry Olhouser alive with lightning after their friends had been killed in a discarded reality. None of this had been fair to Max or the people she had put into harm’s way.

She coughed through the sobbing, covering her face with a pillow. Hopefully, that was enough to hide her frail whimpering from Tobias’s ears a room away. The worst part, beyond the fact that the world would be better off without her, was that Connor was susceptible to all of this. Every single mistake she had made was something she feared Connor might do as well. That was the reason she was such a poor friend, because she was afraid of teaching him how to hone his powers and use them. He didn’t deserve this, and she spoke from experience.

Max stopped sobbing, hearing the front door’s deadbolt turn. Chloe was home, indicated by the loud muffled thumping of boots through the foyer. The photographer tried to make herself presentable, knowing damn well her teary eyes and puffy cheeks were no easy thing to hide, by sliding directly under the sheets to get comfortable. She heard Chloe give a puzzled greeting to Tobias, who replied that he hoped she liked chicken and rice. Chloe then asked, in a firmer tone, if Max was alright. _Did Tobias text her? Or probably figured it out on her own. I have a memory gap._ Max guessed she couldn’t blame him. He had no idea what to really do to cheer her up even if she thought he was doing his best and appreciated him for it.

Max shifted under the sheets, the clock in their room read six-thirty. She truly had lost track of the hours. The photographer reached over to the night stand on her side of the bed for her tissue box, already wiping what felt like leftover droplets of sadness off of her face. Once the delicate box was next to her in the bed, she began blowing her nose quietly to clear both her sinuses and her throat. A pained noise escaped her as she blew harder, finding more red than there should have been on her tissue. Likely leftover blood from when she had broken time for the millionth time.

The moment Max was simultaneously dreading and waiting for occurred as Chloe’s boots thumped their way down the hallway. Max watched the door knob turn and their bedroom door open. She had expected Chloe to look worn out from work, but the strawberry blonde’s face twisted from mild concern to intense sorrow upon seeing the brunette hiding from the world under their bed sheets.

“Hi,” Max said while sniffling, her voice sounding burnt. There was no use in pretending like she hadn’t fallen apart in front of Chloe.

“Oh, Max.” Chloe marched over to the bed, sitting herself on the edge and removing her boots while placing a hand on the sheets covering the photographer’s midriff. Max turned on her side to face her girlfriend as Chloe undid the first bootstrap, and another.. Soon after, Chloe scooted closer, pulling Max into a tight embrace. Max’s girlfriend placed her lips on the brunette’s forehead, stroking the depressed woman’s face while staring at her. Chloe was definitely the only person who could shrink Max at mere touch, and Max scooted in even closer and laced her fingers into the punk’s hand on her midriff, trying to at least give Chloe a genuine smile. Chloe attempted one of her own, and then asked her what had happened.

Max opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She didn’t know _how_ to tell Chloe that her dead ex-girlfriend was alive, and had asked her to find Sera. She didn’t want to sour this intimacy any more than it already was, or watch Chloe’s pale face go even paler. She couldn’t do it to her. Most of all, she didn’t want to involve Chloe any more than she already was with Time Prick and Eliot’s stalking. If Max kept everyone in on this plan, she realized in that moment as Chloe moved in to kiss her on the cheek, they could all die even with the incredible power Max possessed. The time traveller _had_ to tell Chloe the absolute truth, but that intrusive thought that she would be signing Chloe’s life away if she did, kept her mouth ajar and her expression petrified. Max closed her mouth and covered her face with the pillow, before Chloe caught and pulled it back.

“Nuh uh,” Chloe whispered soothingly, her fingers beginning to lightly trace Max’s stomach. “You’ve been weird all day, sweetheart. Please, tell me what’s wrong?” Max knew she had to. Nobody was more important to her than Chloe, and she had proven it time and time again, but she just couldn’t tell Chloe everything right now. Her courage had been sapped away hours ago by the Yatagarasu. She felt the tears starting back up, the lump in her throat and the giant weight in her chest, and started sobbing once more. She barely heard Chloe mutter ‘no’ empathetically, resting her head on Max’s pillow.

“I love you, Max Caulfield. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, but I love you.”

“Just hold me. Please,” Max pleaded, feeling Chloe press herself against Max’s front and her hands wrap around the crying brunette. She could hear Chloe choking up now, and for good reason. Max hadn’t had this bad of a breakdown in years.

“That’ll never be a problem,” promised Chloe, nudging Max with her chin until she looked up to her girlfriend who planted a soft kiss on both lips. Chloe lifted up the sheets and removed the only obstacle left, aside from their clothing, and returned to Max. They shared the embrace in silence, occasionally kissing one another and letting their hands travel along the other’s body. It was raw and emotional, but Max needed her support right now. One thing Chloe Price would always be was real, and at this point, Max couldn’t imagine what her life would be without having Chloe to turn to in the middle of the night. _An asylum, or dead. No doubt about it._

A half hour must have gone by before Tobias announced that his world famous chicken and rice was ready. Max was a lot better off than she had been when she had come to, and for the first time all day she realized she hadn’t actually eaten anything. When she sat down at the table, a Chloe who had showered and changed into her baggy cargo pants and tank top joined her. Max could tell Chloe was uncomfortable, with the way the strawberry blonde stared down at the table and occasionally at Max. _I’m sorry, Chloe. I’ll tell you everything very soon._ The fragrance from the kitchen was enough bring Max’s attention away from Chloe and momentarily on the stove, where Tobias had begun dishing out his filleted chicken and boiled rice.

When they finally chowed down, it was, at least for Max, amazing. Toby had been teasing that he wanted to cook for them both since she had gotten the job years—well, at least a year or two ago in this instance. She watched Chloe’s left hand wield a fork and tear into the baked chicken and Spanish yellow rice, while also gazing at the woman’s intricate tattoo sleeve on her right arm. Chloe caught her looking, called her starry eyed, and continued unceremoniously munching. Chloe was loving this meal too, and that made Max genuinely happy even though she was on the verge of settling a question that would surely put pause to such feelings.

“I hope I haven’t been imposing,” Tobias added as he swallowed a bite from his fork, seated at the opposite side of the table. “It’s been eons since I could just kick it with you two, but I feel a bit awkward, since…” Chloe pointed her fork at him, still chewing as she spoke. Max would’ve slapped her on the arm if she hadn’t been so cute.

“Disagree, dude. I missed having you around.” Max disagreed as well, though she could read Chloe’s subtle body language. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to be surprised by someone in their home, but Max needed all the help she could get and Toby was someone they could both rely on.

“Don’t be silly. You’re the best,” Max said. “And I am so noshing on this for the next week.” Tobias chuckled to himself, getting another bite before exuberantly cricking his neck. Chloe rolled her eyes with a pearly smile just as he predictably began to flex his arms in a stretch, performing his regular show off.

“So when are you gonna bench with me, Chloe?” Tobias asked. “Man, the look on those jocks’ faces when you picked up that eighty by yourself…” Max, with a grin and restful eyes, tilted her head in the punk’s direction. Chloe was smiling with her eyes off toward the kitchen, likely preparing a rebuttal.

“You’ve been hitting the gym, Chloe?” Max inquired.

“There was one time, don’t you remember?” Chloe began, her eyes moving from the kitchen to back at her plate. Max didn’t remember, but she let Chloe go on. “It was a few months back. We had to drop him off, I went inside because I was curious. Toby here wanted me to embarrass some of his dudebros and, I kind of underestimated myself?”

“You were sweating bullets but man, you did it!” Watching them both open up and relax was nice, but Max hadn’t forgotten the stress of the warning. She had made a decision on what to do about Rachel and the Yatagarasu, but still wasn’t certain if her next course of action was going to be the best one. Max excused herself from the table once she had finished most of her food, something Tobias was apparently unused to. Chloe gave her a kiss before she put on shoes, grabbed her phone and left the apartment to ‘visit the coke machine’ downstairs. When she returned, they were going to watch a show that both Chloe and Tobias had wanted Max to watch for a while. Knowing those two, she had to guess it was related to Star Wars. _Best to get this over with now so I can be happy around those two._

Her journey down the stairs and to the side of the main office wasn’t as scary as she had thought it would be, but Max was constantly watching her back. Out in the darkness of an unlit parking lot or from somebody else’s apartment bedroom windows, there could be somebody watching Max. On top of that, she had a hunch that Chloe knew Max was intentionally avoiding the subject of what had happened today. Sitting her down and talking about it would come next, after the phone call she intended to make.

Arriving at the coke machine, she used a few quarters that Toby had dug from his pockets and inserted them, then selected the three bottles each requested. Chloe went for a coke, as did Max, but Toby was craving some off-brand root beer. _Not a problem_ , Max thought as she fetched each bottle from the dispenser and set them on the ground. While resting against the office foundation, she took her phone from her pocket and pulled up Kristine Prescott’s number. She dialed it, the ring tones going on for nearly a minute before the familiar voice of the Prescott Heir greeted her. It would never get easier for Max to talk to a Prescott.

“Hello, Miss Caulfield. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Max had been trying to anticipate this moment, exactly what she would say and what-not. There was an easy way to get it off of her chest, and she decided to dispense with the pleasantries. “Have you been doing okay?”

“No. I need Detective Southgate’s number,” Max said, swallowing that last ounce of regret that she had been fighting with to make this call. There was no turning back now.

“What for?” This wasn’t a question Max had anticipated from Kristine. For some reason, it even took the photographer aback. Maybe she was thinking too hard, and a slight nip from the wind made her stand more upright. She was way too nervous to deal with this, but if she didn’t do it now it wouldn’t happen or Chloe would talk her out of it.

“I no longer feel safe. I don’t think anybody’s safe, and I have no one else to turn to,” Max stated in a rushed tone. Even now, her conscience was screaming. If Mr. Wright had been alive, perhaps he would’ve been a preferable choice over this woman but he was gone and nobody else was useful. At the bare minimum, Leanne Southgate knew she was super powered and continued to work with Max and company _. Wowser. Politics make strange bedfellows._ Further, they were now after the exact same thing: stopping the Yatagarasu by any means necessary. There was the obvious fact that Southgate was a human being, but she was more likely to defend herself and cover Max without any conflicting feelings. Likewise, Max cared so little for Southgate aside from being a human being that putting _her_ on the frontlines as opposed to her friends was an ideal choice.

“I understand,” Kristine responded, giving the short brunette the phone number. Max thanked her, said her goodbye and immediately dialed the number she was given. Unlike Kristine’s slow to answer phone call, Southgate’s cell went to an automated voice mail where the time traveller heard the ominous voice of Leanne Southgate, along with some language she thought to be French at the very end of her answering message.

Max took a heavy sigh, loathing what she was doing. “It’s Max Caulfield. You remember me. I want to set up a meeting, Detective.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Won't you sing me a nursery rhyme  
> To keep me quiet while you're on fire  
> Won't you sing me a nursery rhyme  
> To keep me quiet while you're on fire  
> Won't you sing me a nursery rhyme  
> To keep me quiet while you're on fire


	7. Restless Amity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to my classes and a gun injury to my hand, I'm going to have to switch to bi-monthly uploads instead of every Saturday. Sorry guys.

#  **Chapter Six: Restless Amity**

**_Sunday, April 17th, 2016, 8:02AM_ **

Connor always enjoyed Sunday mornings. They were the one day of the week he usually slept in. Today he had to make an exception to that rule, but he _had_ gotten out of bed for a good cause. The urban explorer laid out several sets of shirts and pants across the brown loveseat, trying to make a decision on which to wear for today. On the flatscreen in front of him, the morning news droned on about all things political. Unfortunately for Connor, that’s all the news had been about lately, from primaries to historically unpopular candidates. As political as Connor was, he was frankly sick of it all.

 _Off you go_ . The disheartening news shut off abruptly as Connor pressed down on the remote’s power button. His eyes returned to the clothes. Shaking his head in indecision, he still couldn’t decide what to put on. _Why am I stressing so hard about this?_ On top of his jittery mood, there was plenty to think about beyond his outfit. He had made a somewhat decent phone call to the family, an accomplishment that couldn’t be disregarded.

His mother was still giving him shit for things that weren’t his fault, and Max had spooked him with her warning that someone was coming for him. That had left the brunet hoping that Max herself wasn’t caught up in another supernatural fight, though the time traveller confirmed she wasn’t. Then there was Ren, a dreamy woman who had walked into his life out of nowhere. All in all, the past week had been okay, compared to the last few. He had no reason to complain, seeing as nobody had shown up to kidnap him, yet.

The sound of a text message from across the apartment pulled him away from the clothes, his feet wandering across the blue carpeted hallway towards his bedroom. The brunette was expecting some texts from classmates or possibly from Steph or Ren, and all of them needed quick replies to make the most of his free day. Through the open door, he spied his phone charging atop his bed tucked into a corner close to the window. _Nobody’s making me center my bed. Nobody._ The urban explorer grabbed the phone while partially stretching, alleviating the leftover stiffness. Then, he walked over to the window where he opened up the blinds. The morning sun didn’t shine bright enough to blind him, but he still squinted and peered across the parking lot. Most cars were gone, indicating that many others had beaten him to the start of their early Sunday morning. He was eager to get a move on until he brought the phone up to read the message.

#    


8 _:08PM_

_Sir, I need you to come in today on 2nd shift. Lewellen called out_

#    


“Of fucking course he called out,” Connor complained with a groan. It wasn’t enough that a few of his coworkers were beyond unreliable, but no one else was ever willing to pick up the slack. Connor knew he could say no, but his boss would just text him back with an angry reply. Whenever someone called off, he covered and never complained about it. He was just tired of having to be that person every single time. His security job could be miserable on the worst of days, but he couldn’t go without it.

He noticed another message from his mother, one he must have missed. Predictably, it was a sour reply to a well intentioned message he had sent to her last night about his finances. It always seemed like nothing could satisfy her whether he was in school, had a job, or friends. _No wonder Aubrey acts like my mom_ . Connor wasn’t going to engage either his boss or his mother, walking back out to his living room instead. He was ready to flush the dread out of his system by picking an outfit for the day. Eventually, he decided on a plain blue t-shirt and shorts, which wasn’t his usual get-up. _That would sound funny, coming from a Floridian_. From gelling and combing his hair to moisturizing, he ticked every box on the list of morning rituals before microwaving a quick meal. At least for his boss’s text, he had plenty of time to confirm for second shift given how far away it was. He also wondered how they’d meld with his plans already cemented, because he was going to enjoy his Sunday no matter what.

By the end of it all, Connor had found his way back to the living room and layed down on his dark futon awaiting the phone call from his ride. In all honesty, he was still unsure of how it would go with Ren or Steph today, but the digital artist needed their help with some sort of project. Connor also had a few errands to run on campus, considering how bad his academic aptitude had become. His grades were holding on, barely, and he needed to try and make contact with some of his professors. It wasn’t like he even knew why he was going to to school or where he would be years from now.

Connor felt a vibration in his pocket and quickly brought his phone up. As expected, it was Ren. He accepted the call with a smile, ready to hear the one voice that could change his mood on a dime. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” answered Ren in a promising, chipper mood. “I’m waiting for you downstairs.” Connor’s eyes widened, and he began to glare at his living room windowsill. He hadn’t heard her motorcycle outside, which was a bit weird. Then again, this was Ren Yesfir and despite both the woman’s charm and charisma, she _was_ pretty weird. _Love it, though._

“I think it’s adorable that you prefer to call rather than text,” said Connor, hearing a faint laugh on her end. Of what personality he had gathered from her over the weeks, she had a lot of that ‘old soul’ attitude in her.

“Everyone says that. Hurry up!” shouted Ren brazenly through the phone.

“On my way,” Connor promised, hanging up the call and putting his phone away. The snow-haired woman sounded pretty happy to hear from him, too. He hoped she wouldn’t take the news about his extra shift too hard. Connor exhaled, walking towards the front door and grabbing his raggedy old backpack, ready to set foot outside and officially start his day.

Connor marched down the stairs, staring at the intricacies of each orange step. He had hung out with Ren plenty since meeting her, but he still wasn’t sure who she was. She liked a _lot_ of video games, even more than Steph could name. She was quite the cinephile, too, and very unwavering on her opinions of the world—something Connor adored with a fiery passion—but at the same time, she hadn’t spoken a word of her family, friends, really personal stuff. Connor loved her company so he hadn’t wanted to push her on it, but the lackluster conversations had begun. He knew her, but he didn’t. And she kept flirting with him. _Is it weird for this to bug me? I don’t like talking about myself all the time, but it's just the only way I can keep Ren engaged._ Even when he thought he was talking too much, she always gave him a fond smile, as if she truly wanted to hear everything. Connor wasn’t used to that from anyone, not even Aubrey.

He’d spotted the snow-haired woman before leaving the staircase, except that her hair was no longer white but a deep black with remnants of her highlights. Leaning against her red and black motorcycle and staring across the complex, Ren sported a vibrant red blouse, capris and thin-rimmed shades. _Yeah. Never a day where she isn’t a looker_ . Once his feet touched the pavement, she noticed and stood up straight, waving with her left hand. _Also southpaw. Need to remember that_.

“You’re early!” Connor shouted with excitement, waving back to her before halting just far enough away to be reminded of how much taller she was than him. Ren nodded, resting her hands on his forearms, her eyes traveling from Connor’s down to his feet. Before he knew it she was tugging on his arms lightly until he started moving forward again. He brought his hands up to her waist, and then her shoulders as woman pulled him into a tight hug. Affection from anyone was a good reminder of what it felt like to have someone around, but he still wasn’t good at reading her.

“Yep,” whispered Ren, as she let the hug linger on. “I want actual time to chill with you two, not just some school assignment.” When he let go to look into her hazel eyes barely visible behind the shades, she tilted her head and frowned at the brunet. “How’s sleep?”

“What?” asked Connor, confused. Ren’s lips formed a sardonic grin as she slowly turned and looked two different directions.

“ _What_?” quizzed Ren with a giggle.

“I just didn’t expect that from you,” he admitted with a bashful look, lowering his head. “Only person who asks about that’s Aubrey.” Ren reached out and patted him on the shoulder, until his eyes returned up to her. Ren’s gaze was shrouded by shades, but he could tell she was amused. _I’m probably blushing like an idiot too._

“Yeah? Tell me why you look so exhausted,” she insisted. _Ouch. I thought I looked ready for the day, not exhausted._

“The melatonin’s not helping as much as I’d hope for,” Connor said. “I probably look down because I got called in to work later. Kinda blows our plans to hang out all day.”

“Oh,” Ren replied with brevity. She was no longer smiling, and Connor shared the sentiment. “That’s a shame. I guess I’ll have to step up my game.” Without a second for Connor to process, Ren turned and immediately straddled her motorcycle with grace. Then, she beckoned for him to join her. “You trust me yet? Wanna try without a helmet?”

 _There’s that reckless woman I met at the bar._ Of course, Connor considered how irresponsible such an idea was, but the thrill was alluring.

“Sike, don’t _have_ any helmets.” To this, the brunet formed fists against his shorts. He wanted to show his excitement, but the apprehension was taking over.

“Seriously, though?” Connor asked with a smile, as Ren furrowed her brows at him. She was either playing with him or slightly aggravated.

“We cavorting around with Steph or not?” At her insistence, Connor joined her and awkwardly slid onto seat behind her. Ren leaned her head back towards him with a puzzling smirk. She began to chuckle and took both his hands, guiding them past her sides to rest on her belly without even having turned around. “Hold on tight, okay?”

His stomach fluttered, and while he kept his hands precisely where she had put them he followed her instruction on where to keep his feet. Connor knew she was enjoying this, even if he was acting goofy. Once he had gotten comfortable, putting a bit of space between her back and his chest, she gripped both handles on her motorcycle.

“Why so nervous, Connor? Didn’t you _want_ your hands on me?”

“F-For the record, I don’t know what I wanted!” Connor shouted as she revved up her bike. When they had met, it was all spontaneous, in the moment. Given the assault by the drunken idiot, he hadn’t given all the details much thought since.

“Kay,” Ren replied loudly as she began to back out of the parking space. Connor felt his weight shift, and he held onto her, as she checked her blind spots. “Because it sure seemed like you had something in mind.” Of course she was going to tease him. “Hold on!”

The ride to campus was perilous and exhilarating at the same time. Even when Ren had to stop for traffic lights, Connor couldn’t relinquish his grip on her. He felt the wind nipping at his face and ruffling his shirt. It dawned on him that she was cruising at top speed, on a motorcycle with a fucking blouse on. _She truly doesn’t give a fuck, does she?_ With an overload from the new sights, smells and feelings on his mind, so too came intrusive thoughts. He wondered if this was strictly friendship or if there was something more to come. If so, he wondered if she truly thought there were any real perks to having him around. Even if part of him wanted Ren, even if clutching her so tightly as he had to on her sharp turns drove him mad with happiness, he struggled to see any good of it. He had nothing to offer anyone, he was a loser. She was always inconsistent with her own behavior, and the last words they had spoken at the bar after their first meeting still haunted him. She had felt like a monster, something he fought with himself. He just wanted to understand her more, to talk freely without tiptoeing around everything special.

#    


_9:20AM Steph_

_Someone rolled a 2 for Perception. This is gonna take a while._

_9:20AM Me_

_You playing your big girl games instead of studying?_

_9:29AM Steph_

_I’m in the lounge with the sweaty nerd table. Come wait for me, I promise Im finishing up afap._

_9:30AM Me_

_Don’t ever say afap ever again._

#    


The college campus was big, to say the least. Quite often, Connor would try to count the number of cars scattered about, and today was more of the same. As he dismounted from the bike, he noticed a couple holding hands disappearing behind the corner of the library behind them. He might pay the library a visit himself, if he still had time. Connor watched Ren stretch her arms and roll her shoulders, standing a yard away. Relief was what came to mind as the dark-haired woman turned to face him.

“How was it?” she asked Connor with a posturing half-grin. She did this often when waiting for a specific reply, but he was unsure what she was expecting. On his mind were thoughts such as the closeness they had just shared, how he had held onto her during those turns. He had loved the hell out of it.

“Thrilling. Is there anything that _does_ scare you?” She started pondering, giving him a moment to study her appearance again. The piercing in her right ear was a detail he sometimes forgot about, but the scar running along the left side of her jawline baffled him. He wasn’t asking about it, but his curiosity was piqued. _And I saw your studded hips on facebook… Nice._ Still, Connor knew nothing at all about her past, and even though he pretended not to care, it irked him the more he thought about it.

“Cigarettes, heights, clowns,” Ren replied fast as she started for the main building. Connor followed beside, an incredulous look forming.

“Clowns?” Yes, he was astonished, but at the same time, he had learned something new.

“What can I say? They creep me the hell out.”

The two of them made their way from the parking lot, across the grass in between the quiet campus roads, before standing just outside the two-story main building. Even though Ren hadn’t ever been to the campus, she enjoyed leading as opposed to Connor’s slower pace. He didn’t mind, as he pointed out all the offices and areas inside the main building. They went past a wide staircase and beyond the admissions and finances offices until they could spot the rec room. A few school banners adorned the ceiling and large, open windows next to double doors were accompanied by a sofa, oversized TV, tons of tables and an immense crowd of rowdy people their age. In particular, a few tables had been pushed together, where a familiar auburn-haired woman with a dragon necklace and her typical faded skullcap raised up her arms in the middle of whatever campaign she was ostensibly running in.

When they were close enough, he heard Steph’s narration and the other students groaning at something she had said. Connor slowly stopped at her right side, until she noticed him and dropped her facade of a mysterious storyteller. The urban explorer and the artist exchanged pleasantries, and he tried to tell her up front that the plans had been altered. Unfortunately for him, Steph was insistent on finishing up the session.

He found a seat at a table where Ren had already sat down, a large white pillar practically hugging one corner of their table. He placed his backpack down, trying to maintain the imaginary schedule in his head while balancing the presence of someone he found intoxicating. As she began scanning the interior, he too took in the familiar and strangely relaxing atmosphere of campus life. A cafeteria, though empty, was starting to open up and two students were going ham on a PlayBox on the big TV. Tucked away in the far corners of the room, some people preferred to actually open their textbooks and study. It was a summer semester, so this place wasn’t quite as crowded as he had seen it under Spring and Fall ones.

“I don’t remember school being cool,” said Ren. Connor gazed at the woman who was locked onto the two playing video games, as well as Steph, who had begun packing up her things.

“When was the last time you were in college?” Connor asked her. Though Ren remained still, he spotted her eyes dart to the corner of her face, and then back to their original target. Several seconds rolled by, without a response. The urban explorer began to wonder if he had said something wrong, when she graced him with a reply.

“If I tell you, you can’t freak.”

“Why would I freak?” he asked with narrowed brows. Ren continued to confuse him as she blew air out of her lips and gradually stared down to the floor. “Alright,” he said, an assuaging tone present. “I promise, no freaky.”

“Thanks.” This time, Ren turned away from the rest of the room towards him. With another hesitant breath, she said, “2009.”

  1. Connor thought about everything that had gone down since that time. The country’s change, his family’s own, where he was. _Wait a second, I was only fourteen. Which means…_ With a quickly dropped, ‘oh,’ Connor realized why Ren would be less than forthcoming. “No way.”



“Chikusho.” That wasn’t the answer she wanted, as the dark-haired woman cringed and closed her eyes. All she could offer was a pained nod. “You promised you wouldn’t freak.”

“I’m not freaking out,” snapped Connor defensively. “That’s just… how did we wait this long to establish that?” She looked invigorated and young, but he never supposed the age gap could be _that_ wide.

“We? It’s rude to ask a woman’s age, and you aren’t a rude boy,” she said, in a slightly better mood. “Yeah. I’m twenty-eight, sorry for not telling sooner. Connor, I’m no good at—”

“Say, you two look like you just committed murder.” Connor and Ren were taken by surprise as Steph slung her pack onto the table and slid into a seat, closer to Ren. Steph’s smile slowly caved to an inquisitive frown. He observed her hands digging through the bag until she removed a power cable and plugged it into a outlet in the pillar.

“Not this time,” Ren said with what sounded like a forced murmur. Connor could feel the lingering awkward tension between the two of them, with Steph now acting as an unknowing ice-breaker.

“Morning to the both of ya, I’m glad you came.” Steph removed her laptop from the bag and opened it up, lightly tapping on the keyboard. Connor noticed Ren raising a hand, with her eyes following the same gesture.

“You gonna elaborate on this ‘project’ you need help with?” Although Ren had just asked the question, it was like she spaced entirely, her expression going weird and empty. Then with no warning she scooted her chair away from Connor and closer to the pillar and Steph. _Wow. I really made things weird, didn’t I?_ Even if he thought that knowing her age had been well overdue, Connor still couldn’t help but feel like he had made her uncomfortable. If she truly was twenty-eight years old, with a job that paid well and the means to make her own life, then what could she possibly see in him? Actually, he didn’t know if she saw _anything_ in him, _between_ them, because she never told him. Just mindless flirting that varied in intensity.

Steph started elaborating, but Connor had to admit he was caught up in his own thoughts. He tried to focus on the topic at hand when a passing woman nearly bumped into the table. Ren had a delayed reaction, though she offered an arm to stabilize the woman. Connor checked the floor below them and saw Steph’s power cable protruding out from underneath Ren’s seat.

“Good thing you moved over here, huh,” remarked Steph with a smile as the other woman apologized and walked away. _Is that why she moved away? I guess I’m not really paying attention…_ “So,” the digital artist brought a hand to her chin, pondering. “I need to interview you two for research.”

“Be more precise,” Ren commanded playfully as she propped her neck on the edge of the pillar and the seat, in a way that Connor thought couldn’t be comfortable.

“Questions about your worldview, your background and perception on reality.” The idea of hanging their dirty laundry out for a school project sounded oddly cathartic. As Steph explained in more detail, Connor watched Ren’s facial gestures contort between stern and soft. It struck him that she wasn’t sure what emotion to have, a strange observation he had suspected before when she had mood changes on the dime. Then again, there were always other possibilities to explain that. Steph ostensibly noticed Ren’s confusion and tilted her head. “Is that okay with you two?”

“I’ll tell you if something is amiss,” Ren replied briefly, and Steph’s eyes quickly glanced toward Connor before darting back down to her laptop. Connor found it highly convenient that Steph’s project involved getting Ren to talk about herself. He also thought it impossible to condense all the crazy happenings from his life into something concise enough for a school report. Regardless, he was down.

“Okay. First question: what can you say about the place you grew up in?”

Connor’s immediate thoughts were on Los Angeles, and better times that involved Hyram and Aubrey, other friends he hardly spoke to, and parents that weren’t quarrelling with him. They weren’t so bad when they weren’t trying to manipulate him. He noticed that Ren hadn’t answered the prompt yet and predictably, she looked hesitant to answer. Her hands were tracing the edge of the table, though she was definitely thinking of something to say.

“I was happier back then, where I grew up,” he spoke up. Steph began typing away, probably transcribing his answer and keeping her face buried behind the laptop screen.

“Why?” asked Steph once she stopped typing, her hands resting above the keyboard awaiting his next sentence.

“I had far less responsibility. The structure of school, family helped me stay sane and on point. All my friends are still over there, and I was also ignorant enough to be happy.” Steph peered over her laptop, and Ren had started giving him a worrying glance too. “The world’s a scary place, guys.”

“Woah,” Steph said with a spunk-filled laugh. “I’m sorry, Connor.”

“Blagh,” was a noise that came from Ren. The urban explorer and the digital artist put their attention on the dark-haired woman who was now leaning against the table. She seemed ready to speak, finally. “To me, my _home_ was the exact opposite. I don’t even want to call it home.”

“How so?” inquired Connor with sheer curiosity. She was finally giving them details on her home life. Steph also perked up, one hand playing with the necklace instead of idling near her keyboard. Ren shared a look of contempt with both of them, tucking one lip underneath the other while glancing around the room almost nervously.

“My family means nothing, they’re probably gone. The town could care less if I’m dead or alive,” Ren finished, groaning. “I need a drink if we’re gonna keep this going.” To Connor, this was not what he had expected. Instead of feeling joy from learning more about this fascinating and enigmatic woman, all she had done was bring the dread back. She sounded miserable even with this tiny preview.

“What happened?” he asked Ren, seeing her hands reposition from the table to her lap. Connor didn’t mean to press someone who was clearly uncomfortable with the topic, though she was growing more antsy by the second.

“Don’t really need to talk about this, right? My worldview sucks. I left Japan for a reason. They’re all xenophobes and there was no future to build there.”

“When did you end up here, at least?” questioned Connor. He received a glare that just brushed his skin, like a dagger teasing flesh. He was slightly sorry for pushing, but he had to try.

“After ‘09, I spent a lot of time in Saint Petersberg. Not the Florida Petersberg. Flew over to Texas, ended up down here.”

“Interesting,” Steph replied, mimicking a hand writing notes in the air with a pen. Connor had other thoughts, such as why she was still being so secretive and worrying. These pieces of information were filling a void that had existed since the night they had met, but it wasn’t turning out to be a pretty picture so far. Still, did his feelings even matter, on any of this? Connor shook his head, attracting no one’s attention with the gesture.

“Next question,” Steph said, finishing up her typing. “Your stance on how we live.” Connor thought his answer would be biased due to his politics as well as the incredible powers he possessed. He gathered his thoughts, culminating into a long pause, when Ren took the initiative to answer first this time.

“Humans are remarkable in a way, that everything can be absolutely shit, yet life goes on. We live on. Dogs can do that easily, because they don’t have to think. I like to remember that we don’t always have to think either. Even if we’re cruel, I have… a weird, I guess you could say, it’s a kind of respect for us. For the way we live our lives.”

“Huh,” Steph slowly replied, likely caught off guard. “Like veneration?”

“Don’t know,” said Ren dismissively, her eyes lowering towards the floor.

“I for one disagree,” Connor began, as Ren’s eyes moved back up to stare at him cynically. “You’re comparing people to dogs. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to just turn their brain off to be happy. Just as a dog can’t have the crushing weight of pondering his existence.” Ren’s lips twitched and eventually curled, seemingly annoyed with his answer. He didn’t like it when she stared at him angrily, and he felt like he shrunk a foot when it happened.

“Why not?” she asked him.

“It’s just not that simple,” Connor told her. There had been plenty of times where he wished more than ever he could just drive a stake through his head to stop the negativity and depression. In his view, you couldn’t just cure bad thoughts by not having them.

Ren shrugged at him, breaking eye contact. “It works for me. I’m pretty pissed off at the world and still pull it off.”

“I never thought I’d meet two nihilists so casual about their disdain for the world,” Steph quipped as she began typing once more. “At least it's something you have in common.” Ren scoffed, leaning back against the pillar folding her arms.

“It’s an unfortunate habit,” Connor admitted, leaning back in his chair, too.

Twenty minutes had rolled by, and Steph’s Q&A had also passed. What started as class work had devolved into random questions, jokes, memes and music sharing. Connor had relaxed tremendously, and yet he could still see Ren’s guard was up. She had no reason to be like that by this point, and Connor remained as baffled as always about this woman. _To no one’s surprise, I’ll add._ He thought back to the night at that bar, when she had been even more self-deprecating than he was. Was she just afraid to open up, convinced she was ugly on the inside? How could a woman who had such a lovely smile and courageous attitude also hold this much consternation? _And dare I think, what if she’s right and she’s trying to hide me from that?_

In the present, Ren was right next to Steph, watching a video about some J-Rock band in traditional Japanese attire. She called them something like “Wagakki”, and noted that they’re her favorite rock artists. Steph thought it was cool as she bobbed her head to the beat, with Ren telling her she ‘told her it was great’. It was so cool, in fact, that other students had started to peer across from their tables to get a view of Wagakki.

He felt the familiar vibration of a phone in his pocket, and pulled it out to see the notification was for a text from his mother.

#    


_10:20 AM Mom_

_Connor, your father won’t speak his mind so I will. If you continue to disrespect us and blow off the goals we mutually set up together, then you will have to find your money on your own time. We can’t keep waiting for you to make up your mind on school and future. Money doesn’t grow on trees. You can handle it, you’re living on your own anyway. Don’t be like your uncle and become a loser._

#    


Back to feeling like shit, Connor tossed his phone onto the table without even closing it. Ren’s eyes left the computer screen and found purchase on the phone. “You alright?” Even Steph had stopped jamming out, pushing her laptop to the corner of the table. Connor shook his head no, grimacing.

“Business as usual for the Papworths. My mother just insulted me.” Ren could probably read both his face and his tone, but she had a tightened frown of her own.

“She can fuck off,” Ren said with an exasperated, inarticulate sound afterward. He assumed she was thinking back to three weeks ago when he had vented about how his mother had went off on him for going over the grocery stipend she had given him. On the table, Connor’s phone began vibrating again. His mother was calling him. The urban explorer reached out to take the phone, but Ren beat him to it.

“Mom’s calling,” Connor complained, expecting her to hand it back over to him. Instead, she slid it into her blouse and snapped her fingers. Connor chuckled, his eyes rolling across the ceiling. “Come on. I need to answer.”

“No you don’t,” replied Ren with a quivering lip and starry eyes. “You need to come sit by me instead, no?” He raised his brow at the smiling woman. Hiding the phone in her blouse had been a brilliant idea, since there was no way he was reaching into _that_ to get it back. _She really wants me to come over there, huh. Is Ren mad at me or not?_ Connor stood his ground, with Steph shaking her head, perhaps finding the both of them unbelievable. The dark-haired enigma gestured for him to join her with an open palm, and this time Connor gradually moved his seat closer to her, around the pillar until he was at her side.

Then unexpectedly, she threw an arm across his shoulders and laid her head down on him. Such acts were always easy to think about, how he would react when they happened, but he had overlooked a very crucial component of this: in all of those thoughts, _physical touch_ was absent. It wasn’t there to distract him, drive him insane, and melt his heart. This wasn’t like a hug, which was always an excuse for a bit of affection. She was gripping his left shoulder, and resting her cheek on his right. All the tension and confusion burned away, replaced by a feeling so fuzzy in his chest.

The three of them browsed the net together, staying far longer than the rest of the students in the lounge. Steph and Ren continued nerding out over bands Connor hadn’t seen before, and then some ‘early access’ survival videogame until Steph received a phone call.

“Oh, darn. This is a client of mine. Still using a logo from the nineties. Is it okay if I take this?” Steph asked them, getting up from her chair. Naturally, Ren and Connor told her to take the call, simultaneously giving each other a look of acknowledgement. Steph walked off, conversing with whoever was writing her checks. “No making out while I’m gone,” she warned them, covering her phone’s speaker.

 _Is this what a bluescreen feels like,_ thought Connor as Ren pulled him even closer, a sultry expression emerging. She pressed herself against his body from her chair, turning to meet his eyes with a now-innocent stare. He realized how easily he could get entranced in her amber pupils, as if falling victim to a siren. Although, the last word he’d use to describe himself now, even as Ren moved in to kiss him, was victim.

“Making out? What’s that?” whispered Ren, inches from his face. She clearly didn’t care about the strangers still present, or Steph ambling around in the background. His heart was pounding, and she knew it too as her hand slid up to his chest. Connor wanted to give in to his desires so badly, but before he let his body do the talking he scrunched his eyes and shook his head no. He had to bring up some of his concerns before they went to this. She retracted and gave him distance, though kept her arm slung across his shoulders. “What now?”

“This just feels weird,” Connor said, watching the fear of rejection wash across her countenance. “I barely know you. You never want to tell me anything, and I feel left in the dark.” Rejection was quickly replaced with anger, and Ren removed her arm from resting across his seat.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she snapped, looking away from him. That response got him rather heated, too.

“Bullshit. You’re amazing, great, talented, all of these words I can use to describe! But you’re also so mysterious, sketchy, and I gotta fill in blanks. I want to know you, not who I want or think you are!”

“That… That doesn’t all come at once!” she bit back, stammering. “Why can’t you be patient?”

“It’s been a month and I’m just now learning how old you are. You haven’t told me what your life was like or all of these other things that people normally find out. I’ve spent a lot of time with you, and I love every moment, but Ren. I’ve been patient, and you’ve told me nothing. You always change the subject when I try to ask questions. If there’s some reason why, could you just tell me so I understand?” He saw the fire in her eyes, but in a split-second they dilated and she twitched, like something he just said stung her hard. “It makes me feel like you either don’t trust me, or you’re scared of something. Then, you’ll smooth talk me or touch me, and it just throws my mind into a tailspin.”

“Why did you come straight to me at the pool table?” She refused to meet his gaze now, aiming towards the pacing Steph who had apparently started arguing with the client on the other end of the phone. He was afraid of coming off too strong in this conversation, and seeing Ren break eye contact hurt. “Was it because I looked right at you? Did you wanna fuck, play games, talk? Which was it?” When he thought about that night, he recalled how the air had been swept right out of his lungs the instant she laid eyes on him.

“Yeah. You could’ve gotten anyone that night, but you laid eyes on me. You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen come through the door, Ren! You saved me from an ass beating too, but you’ve had me on the end of a fishing line. That can’t be all this is. I need to know and understand you. I need to be your friend first, and that means trusting me.”

“I,” Ren tried, exhaling heavily. The dark-haired woman was a bit more shocked than Connor had suspected her to be, as most times of confrontation she merely grew agitated. He realized her shoulders had tensed, when a shiver crept across her carriage.

“Please don’t be upset, Ren,” he pleaded with her, taking one of her hands and squeezing it. “I’m not doing too hot right now, but I really don’t know what _this_ is. I can’t be wrong for feeling this way, can I?” Just as before, Ren’s vexed expression gave him the idea that she was searching for words. She took another deep breath, her face staring around the entire room.

“I don’t know how I’m doing this,” she conceded, pained. “I’m just following a plan in my head. I didn’t want to hurt you. I already have.” Connor didn’t think she had hurt him at all, merely frustrated him. He wanted her to understand it wasn’t as bad as she was taking it, but the woman jumped to her feet, letting go of his hands. She started to walk away from him towards the lounge’s backdoor exit, alarming Connor and even Steph who looked up from her phone conversation. Connor went after her, trying to stop her by the waist, but she jerked away the moment he touched her.

“Ren, what the fuck? Come on!”

“I’m sorry,” Ren replied hastily. “I’ve made a mistake and I gotta think alone for a while.”

“Don’t go,” begged Connor, dead in his tracks. “You don’t need to…” his words trailed off, as she went out the double doors and down a flight of steps, disappearing from view.

“What the hell just happened?” asked Steph from across the room. Connor spun around and spotted several students all staring at him, before going back to their business of studying and doing nothing. Connor sighed, balling his fists. _Why do I fuck everything up?_ Even though Ren was driving him mad with her strange behavior, somehow he had still managed to ruin it by addressing the problem.

“Go after her, you idiot!” one stranger in the crowd shouted.

“She doesn’t want to be found,” Connor replied in a light rebuke, leaving Steph to scoff and go back to her phone call. With nothing else to do, and a burning urge to fix this, Connor cursed as loudly as he could and stormed out the exit Ren had just taken. The placid lake outside had all manner of tame wildlife with a sidewalk wrapping around its bank, but no sign of Ren Yesfir. The urban explorer growled, with a deep urge to simply tear open the clouds and have it start pouring. He couldn’t have that happening, though.

“Right, I’m also not allowed to be fucking angry. Or sad. Or anything!” he screamed, turning in all directions, unable to choose a destination. _God forbid I fucking cry, huh? Might strike someone with lightning or start a tornado._ In the distance, he heard the familiar foreboding echo of thunder. Needing to calm down was an understatement. It didn’t matter whether he kept angry or not, because his life wasn’t fair.

After twenty minutes of jogging his anger off, Connor had finally returned the lake. He dropped onto the dirt beach, laying his head against the pavement. “Let them get me. Let the gators come.” It had suddenly been a long day, and he still had to go in to work. Better he go in with a restrained mood than an unstable one, and with that thought Connor rested his eyes and practiced breathing. He had begun to sweat considerably from the jog, so grabbing a shower before he went in was a must.

When he sat up, he noticed the curious critters emerging from the lake. Little turtles with shells covered in various splotches of yellow and green patrolled the edge of the water near his feet, perhaps expecting food from the brunet. _Not today, buddies._ The urban explorer looked away from the fearless reptiles to the paths disappearing into the woods, with some foolish hope that Ren had finished her thinking or changed her mind. It wasn’t like she was out of contact with him, until he searched for his phone. Oh right, she had his phone. _Wait. Oh my god, she_ has _my phone._ There weren’t any inappropriate pictures to worry about, but details about his second life and worse, of Max and the Yatagarasu were all on the SD card. He wanted to believe Ren wouldn’t be a snoop, but she tended to investigate things furtively. On the bright side, it probably meant she would see him before the afternoon was over. Probably. Hopefully.

“Hey, Casanova.” He was startled as Steph tossed his backpack onto the ground beside them, scaring the turtles into the deeper reaches of the lake. The auburn-haired artist plopped down next to him, removing her beanie and letting her hair fall down her shoulders. “So what did you do?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Commander,” he said. Steph pushed him on the shoulder, hugging her knees to her chest.

“So for real. What’s going on?” she asked him, prompting Connor to sigh for the millionth time.

“She tried sealing the deal, I stopped it and asked why she’s never willing to talk to me. Really, _really,_ talk to me. I know you’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, putting it mildly,” Steph said with a crinkled nose. “That’s really why she stormed off? I didn’t even get to ask about that raven tattoo.” Her raven tattoo was badass, he had to agree there.

“I’m tired of fucking everything up,” Connor said, exhaling through the nose.

“Sometimes,” Steph started with a softer voice, “people just do things that don’t make a lot of sense to us.” Connor didn’t contradict her, but thought that she had no idea just how little sense this woman made. “She’s very obviously into you, otherwise she wouldn’t be wasting her time.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Connor to Steph, who was now in a staring contest with a turtle who had braved the overworld.

“If she just wanted to hook up, then there’d be no reason to stick around afterward.” She folded her arms behind her back. “She met us at a bar, dude. Although, if you had a bad first time—”

“We haven’t even kissed yet!” Connor blurted out.

“Really? Shit,” Steph snickered. “You two had me fooled. Then what does ‘seal the deal’ mean?” Steph caught on almost immediately after speaking. “You aren’t a virgin, are you?”

“No,” Connor replied shortly, and that was all she was getting. “Speaking of fooled, though. I don’t know whether I’m a fool or not.”

“Well, some people do take a lot longer to open up when they’ve had a shit past,” Steph spitballed. “Judging from what little we do know, I think Ren might have some skeletons in her closet.”

Connor nodded, giving the possibility weight. He could understand, if that were the case. He had really wanted Ren to trust him the way he wanted to trust someone else; someone who could be right in front of him and not have so many expectations, like his family. Connor leaned towards Steph, unsure what he was feeling. “Um, can I have a… hug?”

Steph made a noise of amusement, but moved closer and put an arm across his shoulder. Even simple acts like this made him feel a lot better. Steph did have a leg up from the average person, as she had quickly ascended to his best friends list right next to Aubrey and Hyram. “Hope I’m helping.”

“Thanks for sticking around and befriending me, nerd,” he said.

“You’re welcome. It means a lot to hear, but what brought this up?” Steph asked, puzzled.

“I’m not well, Steph,” Connor replied, feeling Steph move closer to hug him properly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

“No one’s leaving you,” Steph promised him. “Not if we have any say in it. You should totally drop a line to Aubrey and Max though, dude.”

“Huh?” he asked, confused.

“They’re always worried sick about you, but you never ask about them or how they’re doing. I have a feeling you don’t mean to do that, right?”

“Oh, fuck me.” Connor didn’t mean to come off that way at all, and realized he hardly told all these amazing people the words they deserved. It was just another thing he fucked up. He exhaled deeply, pissed with himself for being so stupid. He had no idea why he was like this. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be well,” he repeated.

#    


_3:54 PM Me to Max, Steph, Aubrey… (5 others)_

_Now that I have access to my phone again... I love you all and my stupid self has never really expressed how much I appreciate everything you guys do for me. Just wanted you to know and I’m gonna try to tell you more often._

_3:57PM Steph_

_ <3 _

_3:57PM Aubrey_

_Thank you so much Connor <3 You don’t need to feel bad but it helps to know I’m not speaking to a wall sometimes! ;) _

_3:57PM Ren_

_You the best_

_4:01 Karsten_

_No problem and thanks dude. Hope nothing bad happened to prompt this?_

_4:06 Liz_

_Your welcome and thanks but why the hell did u cc? :laugh:_

_4:10PM Chloe_

_Who the fuck r all u ppl!??!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't wanna fall in love, no  
> No, I don't wanna fall in love  
> With you  
> What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way


	8. Strange Bedfellows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, the new schedule is to upload every two weeks.

#  **Chapter Seven: Strange Bedfellows**

**_Sunday, April 17th, 2016, 2:56PM_ **

Max had heard many say that the Santa Monica Pier was the best representation of Southern Cali, and she could agree to that. Not only was it filled with bright colors and a strangely inviting atmosphere, but she hadn’t seen one person upset today. _That’s not counting me, or Chloe._ It was a windy, warm day, perfect for tourists and locals to come out to the beach and enjoy it. Max _wished_ she were there to enjoy it, both of her hands on the railing while she stared out across the populous beach.

There had been a story Chloe had told her once, about how she and Rachel had made plans to visit this very pier. Rachel had been born in California, but Max didn’t know whether she had ever seen Santa Monica before. _When we find Sera, maybe that’s still possible._ Max thought Chloe would turn into a lobster if she ever tried a beach day, as opposed to the punk’s usual pale skin. Speaking of, Max realized her jeans and jacket were less than comfortable choices to enjoy the weather. She was there on business, not for pleasure.

 _It’s really weird seeing everyone so happy while I’m in this hole_ . The time traveller had so much to worry about—she always had so much to worry about, that she sometimes wondered whether there was a God and whether Max was the victim of some sick joke. Rachel Amber, some iteration or alternate version of the woman from Chloe’s past was alive, the words from that strange time anomaly had been etched into the photographer’s memory: _You listening, Caulfield?_

Max had told Chloe everything that had happened that day at the bar and grill, and it had been one of the hardest stories to spill. Having told her girlfriend about the henchman and the threat from Time Prick was nothing compared to the bombshell that a version of Rachel Amber existed in a reality where she had been killed. _Well, what other conclusion can I make about it?_ They had both seen her corpse, they had heard the confessions from both the murderer and the boy complicit in it. Yet she was alive, working to fight the same foe that now chased after Max and Connor. Max hoped she’d never have to hurt Chloe that way again. When the wind picked up, she felt her eyes watering and wiped the coming tears away. She had done enough crying that night, watching Chloe break down in denial.

Max had not, after that point, been able to tell her about her meeting with Southgate today. _Not for long, I hope_ . As soon as she had a game plan, she wanted to clue Chloe in on what she’d be doing. _I know you would’ve talked me out of this. I can’t have that anymore, Chloe. I need you safe and alive, minus a tornado. I can’t keep hoping my powers fix everything._ It felt so wrong, but then again, nothing felt ‘right’ lately for Max.

Preferring to do something to rid herself of the built up tension, Max turned to face the shops and people behind her. One thing she could do was take pictures, and she’d taken to reading back up on some of photography’s newer figures. Inspired by Eliott Erwitt’s street art style, the pier gave her a great excuse to try getting amusing shots with deep meaning. After all, she had canceled a photoshoot for today to work, so she had to get her fix in somehow. For the next half hour, that’s precisely what she did.

In the middle of lining up a shot of the coastline with the sun shining down across the blue waves, Max lost her peak due to the unexpected ring from her pocket. Regrettably, her hands had been made unsteady, even if for a second. When the Polaroid began to print, she cursed at how blurred it turned out to be. Max slid the photo and her camera back into her bag, coming to her feet and reaching for her phone.

#    


_3:28 PM Atmo-Man_

_How’s Santa Monica going?_

_3:29 PM Me_

_Couldn’t be better ^_^ what about your day?_

_3:29 PM Atmo-Man_

_Rode on a motorcycle for the first time, this girl’s kicking my ass hard. Steph basically nerded out all day. I’m about to be omw to work._

_3:30 PM Me_

_:) thats great! I’ve seen a little about this new girl, she looks awesome. So nothing sketchy going on?_

_3:30 PM Atmo-Man_

_Happy to say no._

_3:31 PM Me_

_Ok, sorry. Just being punctual. Sorry for sounding paranoid._

_3:31 PM Atmo-Man_

_Max, you just apologized twice. Don’t sweat it, please. I’m glad you’re here._

_3:39 PM Me_

_And thank you for the message earlier, I forgot to reply to it!_

#    


While Max finished her response to Connor, the message she had been waiting on arrived.

#    


_3:39 PM Restricted_

_Won’t be using old number. Meet at Mexican restaurant at end of pier. You can use my name._

#    


Max swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. Southgate was finally there, at the Mariasol. She turned to look through the crowd of visitors, and walked towards the end of the pier. The Mariasol and Detective Leanne Southgate awaited her.

The trepidation lingered, even as Max was directed through the restaurant by a hostess to the ‘Southgate’ table reservation. All the while taking in the shiny wood tile flooring and open screened windows, the photographer thought about how much her parents would’ve liked this place when they had visited. Mom and Dad were welcome thoughts compared to the person she spotted as they rounded a booth. Detective Southgate was dressed fairly business-like and as Max remembered, the woman had a resting frown as part of her normal expression. Blonde with sharp facial features, the detective looked older and less rambunctious. That was the face of both a cunning investigator and a loose cannon, and Max was about to try to work with her.

Leanne’s resting frown changed to a smile, recognizing that Max had joined her at the table. The brunette cautiously slid into the booth, setting her camera bag down in the wall corner with her eyes glancing down at the dark blue tablecloth. She hadn’t realized how hard it would be to respect this woman, even after they had made peace.

“I’ve already ordered you a margarita,” Southgate told her, staring out the window to the scenic curling waves.

“Thanks,” Max replied skeptically. The detective was still focused on the ocean outside, giving Max nothing to say. Almost a full minute passed before the photographer decided to stop wasting their time. “Are you ready to talk business?”

“A question, first,” she said without taking her eyes off the sea. Max cleared her throat, hoping to pull the detective’s thoughts away and back to the table.

“What?” Max asked, finally observing Southgate’s head turning to face her, almost indignantly.

“What exactly is it that you have?” Southgate asked inquisitively. “What’s your gift?” Immediately, trepidation turned to straight fear and Max began eyeing her exits at the front and the back of the restaurant. There were plenty of people here to cause a scene and definitely enough for her to give this woman and anybody else the slip.

“Focus.” She heard a snap and stared quickly at Southgate, who held up a thumb with her fingers closed into her palm. “I have no intention of hurting you.” To be candid, Max had expected this conversation to happen sooner or later with the detective after dodging it for an entire year. Her paranoia had gotten the better of her for a brief moment, and so Max began to breathe deeply, preparing herself.

“If I tell you the truth, you’ll answer some of my own questions,” Max decided, conditionally.

“Of course.” Southgate gestured, calmer and more collected than the photographer had known her to be in the past. “I expected _nothing less_ when I agreed to come here.” Despite this, Max also sensed the distrust in the way the blonde had said nothing less. _Tit for tat. Respect for respect, riiiight. Let’s see how this goes_.

“I,” Max paused, watching the way Southgate folded her hands into her lap under the table top. “I can… rewind time.” Within an instant Southgate’s eyes widened and her brows furrowed. “Yes… Like the Yatagarasu,” Max clarified hesitantly. Southgate quietly stared at her in an almost cautious acceptance, as if she were piecing it all together in her head. All things considered, this had been easier than Max thought it would be. The time traveller stared back, unwavering in her gaze when a blur to her right pulled her out of the conversation as kitchen staff apologized for sneaking up and startling them.

Though suspicious of the drink at first, Max found that Leanne Southgate had good taste in her beverage choices. The margarita she had ordered for Max was a delicate mixture of lime and orange juice with alcohol, though the orange seemed to be the overpowering taste. Max realized she’d never even had a margarita and the salted edges of the glass took her tongue by surprise, though she figured by then that Leanne hadn’t poisoned her. _Why am I even worried about that?_ Southgate herself had ordered a Mojito, a tall glass with mint leaves and lime slices shoved down to the bottom underneath ice.

Once the kitchen staffer left, Southgate’s dubious eyes turned to Max as she grabbed hold of her mojita and began sipping multiple times. Seconds passed by before the detective chuckled nervously, taking another surprising swig, Max’s brows rising in surprise. _I_ did _just tell her I’m a time traveller_. She supposed it might help to believe such a tall tale.

“Your turn,” Max warned Southgate, as the blonde began wiping her mouth with the nearby napkin. She could see the detective’s curled lip of frustration, now that Max was pressing for a reply.

“How can I be sure you aren’t the Yatagarasu?” asked Southgate, forcing Max to laugh and press a palm to her head. _We already went over this bullshit last year, detective._

“You’d already be dead or something, right?” Max mocked her. Southgate’s nostrils flared temporarily, tilting her head and bringing a fist to her chin.

“That remains to be seen,” Southgate murmured over the light dining atmosphere.

“Okay,” interjected Max, leaning in on the table. “How can I be sure you aren’t working for some special government agency?” Southgate’s eyes had returned to her, though she continued tilting her head in thought. Max had waited a long time to bring all of this up. “Tell me what an Artemis is, and who coined it.”

“Yes, yes.” Southgate sat up, cricking her neck and then stretching her back. “Figured that’d come up.” _Deja vu_. “I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Seriously?” Max scoffed. “After what I just told you, you’re going to fuck with me like that?” Southgate, seemingly taking pleasure from Max’s outburst, smiled as her fingers tapped against her mojita glass.

“ _Artemis_ was a codename for humans with special abilities like your own, that a joint operation between the United Nations and Interpol had come up with in the early 2000s.” After the brief stalling, Southgate just giving it up so readily surprised Max but then again, everything was uncertain in her life at the moment. “You should keep drinking, this shit’s expensive.”

“Why don’t you open the menu before lecturing me,” Max requested, hiding her trembling hands under the table. Southgate laughed sardonically in response, snatching up the Mariasol’s menu and opening it on the table. Max did the same, though there was no way she could think about food with what she had just learned: that there was some kind of international police force looking into powered people like her. “How many more of us are out there?”

“ _Time travellers_ ? None. However, during my time on the task force we had located at least five Artemises. _Five? There’s five more like me and Connor?_ As she searched through the menu for something that appeared appetizing, she found her appetite slowly fading along with her concentration on the task. She had expected to be the one dropping a bombshell, not the other way around.

“Are they still around?” Max continued, mentally listing off all the Spanish dishes she was familiar and unfamiliar with.

“Officially they never existed,” said the woman over her menu. “Unofficially, as far as I know of, they’re defunct.”

“What about the five you found?” Max inquired further, her eyes aimlessly rereading lines without processing them.

“Three registered with the program, one took their own life, and the other escaped us. For all the money poured into that task force, it sure dried up with little progress. Then, came Veracruz.”

That city had been a place Southgate had mentioned in the past. If Max remembered correctly, the detective had lost her family in whatever event had gone down there and it had involved the Yatagarasu.

“I’m sorry,” Max said, peering over her menu at the blonde detective who had already placed her menu down and folded her arms against one another. She had returned to staring out to the ocean outside their windows, almost in a trance. “I’m also sorry about detective Wright.”

“That’s kind of you,” Southgate noted. “Neither of us would be standing here today if he hadn’t been around, eh?” That was true, considering Mr. Wright was the one who had saved Max and Connor in the end from Hugh Olhouser. “The task force closed down around 2009 due to the lack of results and the Security Council asking too many questions. But hey, you can open any kind of committee in the UN if you bitch loud enough.”

Max pondered all of this, placing her menu down onto the table. The Yatagarasu was a time traveller too, though more powerful or skilled, and one could only imagine what they’d be capable of with three or four other powered people on their side. Finally, getting used to the idea at least in concept, Max cut to the chase.

“So, I’m not being monitored right now. I’m not under surveillance.” These weren’t questions, but statements that Max wanted to be fact.

“If you are, not by me. I’d been in service to Ms. Prescott until my leave of absence. If they were still operational, I’d already know.”

“Okay,” Max whispered to herself, feeling no better than she had when asking. “Why the leave of absence?”

“Oh, you know,” detective Southgate started, letting go of herself and loosening up. “Had to work on myself so that it wouldn’t hurt my work or those around me. But the only man who could ever handle me, murdered. I can’t sit on something like that again.” Max shook her head, _if only Southgate had known what she had done to Chloe, Aubrey and Hyram in another life._

Once the waitress returned, Max ordered a grilled chicken caesar salad, after considering hard about the Baja clam chowder ‘sopa’. Southgate went a bit pricier, ordering shrimp fajitas with rice and beans. Once the waitress took down the order and offered to return with water, both the time traveller and the detective said yes and thanked them.

“You believe everything I’ve told you?” asked Southgate out of the blue, bringing Max’s wondering glances back to the detective.

“You believe I’m a time traveller?” Southgate rolled her eyes and leaned back in the booth, with both arms outward.

“It all makes sense, how you came to warn me. Though, in retrospect some warning about being hit in the head once I rushed up those stairs would’ve been nice.” _Oh, yes. The time we tried taking down the lunatic hiding out in the barnhouse._

“So that’s it?” Max asked her. “No demonstration needed? That’s a first.”

“Who else knows about it?” the detective shot back casually, moving closer to the corner of the booth and laying her head back. Max didn’t like how smug she was starting to get.

“For their safety, let’s not,” Max said bluntly.

“Please,” Southgate added. “Those three and your scene girlfriend know. Anyone else?” Her banterous mood was interrupted as Max slammed her hands down on the table, growing tired of Southgate’s insistence.

“We aren’t discussing it,” Max made clear, as others in the restaurant began to take notice. Southgate’s eyes darted around the room, shooting rude glares all about. She pursed her lips, scowling at the time traveller. Shaking her head, Max continued. “I haven’t forgotten what _you_ did to my friends in another timeline. I know what you’re capable of.”

“What I’m ‘capable of’?” repeated Southgate. “Are you judging me for something I _didn’t_ do?”

“Yes, I am.” Max said, raising her voice. “You shot and killed Hyram. You left left him behind and then kidnapped Aubrey and Chloe. You did all of this and took them directly to fucking Olhouser, where he tortured and killed you. I don’t expect you to fucking understand, but that’s why I’m afraid to bring others into this. Talk is cheap, you _prove_ to me you’ve changed. If that’s even possible.” Max grabbed her margarita and began taking fair sips just as the detective had done, toughing through the strong taste on her tongue. As she slammed the glass onto the table, Southgate was physically appalled at the account, her hands balled into fists and a nervous quirk on her lips. However, before any further blows could be exchanged, Southgate slumped her shoulders.

“I apologize,” said the detective. “I should never have taken that mission in the state I was in.”

“What?” asked Max, entirely caught by surprise that the blonde detective would say sorry.

“After the Prescott investigation, I took a lot of time away from the job for therapy. I didn’t want to hurt anybody else.” _Oh, right! That makes this all hunkey-dorey._

“Is that supposed to be a comforting thought?” replied Max, her attitude snide. Southgate nodded while sipping more of her mojito.

“You’re the one who wanted to work with me,” Southgate reminded her. “The only way to prove myself to you is in action.” Max shook her head disbelievingly, still stuck on the apology. Was she feeling offense that this woman would even think she had the right to give condolences? Did Max even have the right to be angry, given the fact that she had arranged this meeting? _You’re so lucky I can rewind time because this was probably a huge mistake_.

“Why did you even come here?” Max asked after a moment of silence. The Detective took another swig from her drink and sat it down, nearly empty spare for the mint and ice. Then, she unexpectedly stiffened her shoulders and raised a scrunched her forehead

“I told you. Mr. Wright’s murder brought me back.” Max nodded in slight pity, suddenly feeling conflicted over her angry outburst. She might not have been wrong, but she still felt like it hadn’t done anything but sour the mood. Southgate nodded in reply, as if acknowledging Max’s sorrow. “Do you believe your time power is the reason the target’s after you?”

“Target?” Max teased dryly. Southgate chuckled, her eyes searching the area behind Max.

“I’m not gonna say Yatagarasu every time.” _Oh in that case, let me introduce you to ‘Time Prick.’_

“So you have been paying attention,” Max said, adjusting her seating and feeling for her camera bag. It was comforting knowing it was there, at least. The photographer thought it was time to catch Leanne Southgate up to speed.

The two women of very different backgrounds began to eat once their food arrived, and Max gave her as much pertinent information—and by pertinent, Max meant things that were strictly about Time Prick—as possible. The food was pretty nice too, though the brunette had begun regretting her meager salad choice as she watched the detective ravish the shrimp on her plate.

“So,” Southgate said, rudely chewing her food at the same time. “Give me the big pitch that brought you to me.”

“A few days ago,” Max started as she began cutting up pieces of her chicken and salad, “Another henchman like Olhouser cornered me at gunpoint and I had to reverse time to get out of it.” She still felt the ghost of a gun jabbed into her stomach, the man’s hands clasped over her petrified face.

“How’d you know it was the target?” the detective asked, her mouth full. Max shook her head in disgust, though her repulsion wasn’t that strong considering Chloe’s table manners at home.

Max’s first thought was to talk about the vision, but she stopped herself before the thought even left her mouth. She wasn’t sure if the detective was ready for all of that yet, and truth be told, Max wasn’t sure how she’d react or what she’d do with such information. “The man told me that they sent their regards. On top of that, there’s someone stalking my girlfriend and me. Pretty sure it’s someone from her past.”

“Maybe they’re related,” Southgate replied casually, drinking her refilled mojito. “You gonna tell me the full story, or keep cherry-picking?” _She caught me hesitating, fuck. I should’ve expected a professional to know_.

“I’m not sure, but I’d love to kill two birds with one stone there.” Southgate smiled at her, quietly chewing her food with a fork raised in the air. Max watched the blonde swallow, losing her smile for a moment, then gazing sternly at the photographer.

“Then tell me the truth. You’ve been hiding that in all this.” Max inhaled, understanding she could simply rewind on short notice if this turned out to bite her in the ass.

“I was thrown into some sort of time anomaly where everything was frozen, except for me and,” she drawled until Southgate made a noise in her throat, probably urging Max continue. “I was given a warning by someone who shouldn’t be here.” Max cringed at the thought of telling something so personal to the detective. At least, it _felt_ personal. “Rachel Amber. She said she was fighting them. The Yatagarasu. That I needed to find somebody named Sera Gearhardt.”

“Hmm,” Southgate murmured. “So, the Oracle finally speaks.” _That’s right._ Max recalled how both Detective Wright and Southgate had been after the Oracle, seemingly Rachel, though the time traveller had never discovered why Rachel was involved in all of this. Max realized then that it might have been a bad idea to reveal that fact, as she had no idea what Southgate’s intentions had been back then. Oracle carried an antiquated connotation to it, one referring to prophecies given by priests acting as mediums for the Gods.

“How did she get that title?” Max asked quickly, contention on her face growing. Southgate shot her a concerning look, pushing her now-empty plate to the side of the table.

“She delivered a cryptic warning to our private eye office, using Oracle as a codename. If it hadn’t been for her, we wouldn’t have known where to start looking.” _How long has this Rachel been here?_ The photographer suddenly felt anxious, as if somebody has just thrown her into a cage draped in a sheet. “Hey, it’s alright,” the detective tried reassuring Max, to little success. “Don’t worry about it. How’s that boy doing?”

“Always in danger, but always safe,” Max said, placing both hands on her forehead. “I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“Why not bring him into the fold? Surely whatever power he holds would be invaluable.” The photographer hadn’t recalled the detective knowing anything about Connor’s gift, which startled her.

“How’d you know?” Max asked tentatively.

The detective hardened her gaze. “I’ll never forget that car melted into the pavement at that school. What exactly is it that he can do?”

“That isn’t pertinent,” Max urged her to drop the subject. Southgate obviously had no intention of doing so as she laughed sarcastically.

“It definitely is.” The brunette grew frustrated and leaned in against the table.

“Do not push me on this. For all I know, you’ve got some task force out looking for them both.” Max had begun balling her fists, but she felt in control of her emotions better than earlier in the conversation. Southgate wasn’t taking no for an answer, however.

“Please. I told you they’re defunct. Nobody I know is coming for either of you.”

“This is non-negotiable. Connor’s not involved,” Max insisted, this time with more vigor.

“Careful, Ms. Caulfield.” The detective leaned her head on the back of the booth seat, chuckling once more and rubbing her stomach. “We’ve got a good thing going right now. Want to ruin it by keeping your new partner in the dark?”

“We are _not_ partners,” declared Max angrily. Her slight rage was only intensified when the detective scoffed and sat back up.

“Why’d you call this meeting again?”

“Because I need someone who can handle this without remorse or hesitation. And you’re someone I know can do that.” Max watched Southgate’s quizzical stare transform into a sinister smirk, something that somehow felt uncharacteristic yet alarming about the blonde woman. “Someone with skills. Someone who I won’t be distracted by.” _Which is why I can’t involve Chloe or Connor in this._

“I’m flattered. Truly, I am. What do you think we’ll accomplish together?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” inquired Max, losing her patience and her formality.

“Let’s see: a professional police force, two special detectives, a time traveller couldn’t do those things on their own,” Southgate listed things off of her hand amusingly. “You think together we’d stand a chance, eh?”

“I can’t say your detection skills suck,” Max replied. “You’re no Sherlock Holmes, but you’re the only one I can trust.” _That’s a strong word, Max_. “I want you to get a lead on Sera Gearhardt, maybe more on the… target, so nobody else has to get hurt.” While Max wanted to address the Eliot Hampden problem, she felt that the current topic deserved conclusion first.

“So why are they so interested in you and the boy?” Southgate folded her hands next to the empty plate on the table, eagerly awaiting Max’s illuminating answer. _This is the big moment where I either tell her that the end of the world’s coming or blow this all off_. If she revealed the truth to this woman, who had in the past recklessly gotten people killed and would have blown the entire plan had it not been for Max’s timely intervention, who was to say it wouldn’t happen again? The other possibility was that she really had changed, and even if Max had a hard time trusting the word of a near-psychopath, there was no denying her usefulness. Either way, Max could rewind later. She’d taken plenty of photos that day.

“The Yatagarasu wants to use our powers with his to create some kind of impossible global disaster to ravage the planet and reshape it in his image.” It went over as smoothly as Max thought it would, which was absolutely terrifying. Southgate stared at her in bewilderment and dubiety, one hand on the table.

“Really?” Southgate replied dryly, her speech hollow. “A bit overdramatic.”

“Yes. I’ve lived through it before,” Max told her without objection from the blonde across from her. The brunette observed the detective’s eyes gradually trail the contents of their table, the sea outside, as if the gears of her mind were turning and thinking about the haunting information. It was a lot to take in after all, and now Max had blown her mind.

“This changes everything,” Southgate told her weakly. “ _Everything_ ,” she emphasized. “I’ll help you. This motherfucker has taken everything from me, and now he intends to do the same to the entire planet?”

“Thank you,” Max said weakly. “Coming to you was also my safest option.” Although true, that line was sickening for her to admit to the detective. Southgate hesitantly shook her head yes. Max still had to tell Chloe about this, and she wasn’t sure how well it would go over. Her girlfriend deserved no less, she deserved to be kept in the loop, but Max knew that Chloe would want to be part of this. She didn’t know if she could stomach losing Chloe again. _Again. Again_. There was still Eliot to deal with, too.

“Gimme everything you can on the Yatagarasu and I’ll do the same. Without proof, I can’t exactly get my usual sources in on this but I’ll do what I can.”

“I thought you said the task force was gone?” Max questioned, testing the woman. “You can’t tell anybody about this.”

“I can pull some contacts from my Interpol days,” Southgate shot back fast. “This is a global threat, you sure you wanna play this solo?”

“And end up in a lab, tortured, experimented on?” the time traveller growled. “Are you really this fucking stupid?” In response, Southgate raised her hands up in surrender and blew air out of her lips.

“Your hesitation is understandable. They never took anyone against their will unless they were committing a crime or posed a danger.”

“Oh, this is fucking great coming from you,” Max replied. “Consider me reassured.” A government agency getting their hands on her or even the Yatagarasu would be just as bad as if Time Prick himself got his hands on weaponized humans.

“Listen! This is so far beyond you and I. If we’re going to do this, then let’s get one thing straight. You said your powers are similar to the target’s?”

“I think so,” Max drawled, trying to lose her attitude. “Kind of more advanced than mine.”

“This is how we figure out how their vulnerabilities,” Southgate replied. “A weakness you have, surely a weakness they have.” She must have seen the alarm that washed over Max’s face, because she tried assuaging the time traveller’s sudden fear. “You have to trust me, Ms. Caulfield.” Max realized that for once, she wasn’t questioning the detective’s genuinity. “This is the first step to our partnership.”

“Right,” Max remarked, wanting to shiver at that term. “I’ll think about it.” As she sat up and grabbed for her camera bag, Southgate also moved to stand up. The detective pulled from her pocket a gray wallet and then tossed down several dollar bills, more than Max was comfortable counting. “You’re covering the tip, I see?”

“Thanks for that.” Southgate threw several more down, slapping herself on the forehead. “My homeland doesn’t have tipping because they don’t pay starvation wage.” _How equitable of you._

“Wish I knew the feeling,” Max replied, adding some of her own to the check. As they left the Mariasol and towards the edge of the pier to discuss things further, Max still couldn’t believe what she was doing. Was this a deal with the devil or just the enemy of her enemy? Further, would this be enough to keep Chloe and the others safe? They were all civilians in this war and who better to help Max than a veteran who’d been fighting it much longer than she had? Southgate was a tremendous asset and had to be utilized.

Max stopped in her tracks, shocked at what she had just thought. Southgate seemed nonplussed and urged her to continue, the open door hitting Max with the salty, cool breeze from the outside world. She had just devalued Southgate’s life again, as if she was subhuman. Given their past altercations it was reasonable to be distrustful and angry but that might have been too much. Max really didn’t like how her mind snapped to that immediately. The time traveller had to work around that, or she might just prove Time Prick’s words true.

— — — — —

It had been another grueling day at work and Chloe wanted to be as fried as possible, preferably with loud music blasting. The punk pulled into Crestfall Apartments and took her usual parking spot near the front office, putting the truck into park and removing her keys from the ignition. Immediately, she kicked up her booted feet and reclined as well as one could in her old truck, taking a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and the lighter from her front. One flick later, she began puffing the cancer stick that she had once promised to quit in exchange for a weed-only indulgence. She could care less right now.

Despite a pretty okay day working directly with Omar and his assistant, there was no way Chloe could maintain the happy customer service persona. Her Rachel was dead, she’d seen enough proof to be sure of it and yet Max claimed there was _another_ Rachel running around. _Max wouldn’t fucking mistake somebody for Rachel._ This Rachel was in the clutches of Time Prick, and had told Max that they had to find Sera Gearhardt. Would that even be this Rachel’s mother? To top it all off, incel boy still wouldn’t leave her the fuck alone.

Chloe deeply inhaled the cigarette fumes, wishing she could feel something, anything, other than numbness. She wished it would all stop and that she and Max could go back to happily ever after. It would’ve been nice if Rachel had been able to join them here in LA, but that’s just how life turned out, huh? _Nothing’s quite that fair in the Life of Price, huh?_

“I need to break shit or party like a fucking animal,” Chloe muttered, blowing all the smoke out of her mouth. “Yeah. That sounds fun.” Max could come too, if she wanted. The punk wanted Max at her side more than ever. If Chloe had to, though, she’d fuckin’ party all night. Chloe closed her eyes after another drag, thinking of happier times when there wasn’t so much bullshit. Of all places, she pictured Arcadia Bay, Rachel kissing her under the streetlights and oddly romantic ashfall. There were memories of her father taking her to school, or days where she and Max had searched for pirate booty throughout the hometown. Max could rewind time, but she couldn’t do it on a dime. Chloe wondered if such a power could get you high, when she heard the normal ringtone from her phone. The punk scoffed, opening her eyes and pulling the phone to her ear without even checking to see who it was.

“Hello, Eliot,” greeted Chloe emotionlessly. Nobody else called her, so this was the only person it could’ve been. A bit of time passed without any response. Chloe figured she had shaken him up with such a blatant salutation, and just as she was ready to disconnect he said something.

“Hello, Chloe.” Indeed, it was Eliot Hampden, the same man who had been harassing her for three months now. Chloe looked across the parking lot, the aging apartment buildings and the front office, wondering what she even had to say to the asshole.

“I’ve had the shittiest week possible,” she told him, taking a pull from her cig. “Nothing you can say could possibly make it worse. _Nothing_.”

“You and Max never got a happy ending,” he said, forcing the strawberry blonde to sit up in her seat. She let the smoke slowly crawl out of her nostrils and mouth, feeling sudden for Eliot.

“And why don’t we deserve it, huh? Because I ruined your Blackwell career? Because you decided to stalk me and break into the DA’s home after me? Or was it the part where Mr. Amber made some deal to drop charges to buy your silence on the shit you saw in there?” Chloe found herself laughing, genuinely laughing. “Eliot, I’m sorry for what I did to you but you brought it upon yourself.”

“No,” Eliot replied. “None of that. It’s because you and that bitch killed the town.” Chloe’s heart stopped, a gruesome feeling of dread and panic taking over in its place. “You let them all die without a shred of remorse.” _Bullshit. Fucking bullshit_ . “Your mom’s dead, Chloe. How’s _that_ make you feel?”

“Bullshit!” screamed Chloe, tossing the cigarette out her window. _How can you fucking know this?_ “Even if this was true what gives you the fucking _right_ to deliver justice for a fucking town you didn’t even care about, man? Are you forgetting that I actually listened when you vented? Unless you’re so deranged you’ve forgotten,” Chloe hissed, ready to pick a direction and run. She heard the man on the other end of the call fumble over his words, stumbling. She could give less of a fuck, and hoped he choked on his words.

“It’s not that, Chloe!” he began to plead, and Chloe only grew more enraged. “You need to come clean! I know you were just _there_ . You weren’t the one who made that tornado, it was Max Caulfield!” Chloe said nothing, holding her mouth shut with her free hand as she shook uncontrollably. _How the FUCK does he know_?

“Where the fuck are you getting this nonsense?” lied Chloe, panicking. The punk began checking her surroundings, looking for any suspicious vehicle or strange person watching her from afar.

“I didn’t want to believe it either, at first,” continued Eliot. “Max Caulfied’s trying to end the world, isn’t she? You’re probably too brainwashed to see it.”

“What the fuck, man? You’ve got it all wrong,” Chloe said, her words growing more fragile with each syllable.

“I think I’ve got it all right, Chloe.” Eliot no longer sounded shaken, but justified. It terrified the strawberry blonde to think he somehow had this information, even if his conclusion was completely off the walls insane. “But I can’t let you fool me again. Whether you want to be saved or not, I’ll save you and Max will face penance for her crime. But first, we need to stop her, Chloe. And you need to come to _your_ senses. Perhaps I’ll be seeing you before _they_ come for her.” Just as always, Eliot hung up without a further word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I know the place another way  
> I feel, I feel no shame  
> Oh now Mama, do you hear my fear?  
> It's coming after me  
> I'm calling out your name  
> I'm calling out your name


	9. Run Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains strong feelings regarding suicide. Please take care.

#  **Chapter Eight: Run Forever**

**_Saturday, May 7th, 2016, 5:45PM_ **

Normally, the end of a shift would be time to unwind. That was next to impossible after what had happened to Connor. Rushing past a few coworkers in white guard uniforms, the restless brunet kept his eyes ahead and his pace fast. He wasn’t talking to anyone about what had happened, no matter how wrong it felt to him. _This could be the last time I see any of this. I can’t believe the Director’s doing this to me._

Usually when one thwarted a crime, they are thanked not fired. Connor had spotted a shoplift in progress. Inside the clothing store, the assailant had become violent with the store’s tenants on duty. He had entered the store after calling it in to the other officers on duty, but when he had tried to talk the shoplifter down they punched him in the gut. Not taking such an action lightly, Connor had grabbed hold of the shoplifter who had tried to fleeing past him and in the process, had slammed them to the ground. Conor had managed to pin them until relieved by law enforcement. In the end, it didn’t matter that he had kept them around long enough to be processed and trespassed. Even though they had punched him, he had been out of line.

He was seething, and if he didn’t keep eyes forward others were sure to notice the twitch on his face. Luckily for Connor, this was the end of the management office hallway and the only thing keeping him from his Sonata was a white door. He grabbed hold of the metallic handle and pulled it down, pushing the door open to see the barely darkened horizon over the neighboring apartments. _At least the sky isn’t falling_.

Once he reached his car, he wanted to just start running across property until he found an impassable obstacle. That wasn’t the responsible thing to do, so instead he just removed his utility belt and slid into the front seat of his car, thinking about his failures in life. This was the first time he’d been fired from a job and this instance could ruin his future in security forever. He hadn’t caught a break lately, between school and Ren, along with whatever was going on in California. Aubrey and Hyram were really bogged down with classwork and other stuff—and Connor really needed some words from either of them now. Steph was trying her best, which he was so thankful for, but he felt like a total bother to Max and hardly friend enough to hit up Chloe.

He placed a hand on his forehead, adjusting the seat so he could lay back and chill before trying to drive home. He could brave calling mom and dad, though he didn’t want that to come with ‘strings attached’. His rent wasn’t due for about a week or so, and he could afford to cover that, but what about the coming months? Could he snag a better, decent job even with his slowly disappearing confidence? What happened if he never got back on his feet? These were all horrible thoughts to have immediately after a termination, but the sight of his director exiting from the same door he had caught his attention. What followed was a rumbling in the sky, perhaps of a distant storm or manifested from Connor’s own anxiety.

Although, this did give Connor an idea. He examined the salt and pepper-haired man smiling, but changed his tune when he glanced to Connor. The brunet returned a courtesy smile, though by this time his director was already frowning. He was halfway to his car when Connor decided to act on his impulse. The weather manipulator closed his eyes and brought in as much air as he could to his lungs, thinking about cold feelings and clouds forming. He had done something similar last break in front of Max, but he hadn’t had the courage to try it again until now. An instant light downpour hit the area, drenching the unsuspecting man who used to be his boss. Connor enjoyed watching him panic, shoving his soaked phone into his equally soaked work pants and running to his car, but just like that the joy was gone. This didn’t make Connor happy, as he was still jobless, close to failing a class, and a time bomb on the verge of going off. _Unless someone nefarious kidnaps me again_.

  


_5:45PM Me_

_Yo, Max._

  


_5:56PM Me_

_You alive, Hyram?_

  


_5:58PM Me_

_Ayo Gandalf. Guess who rolled a 0 and got punched in the gut + termination?_

_5:58PM Me_

_Hi Aubrey. Missing you and hope you’re doing alright._

_6:06PM Aubrey_

_Hey Connor. Sorry we haven’t called for a few weeks. Can I make it up to you tonight?_

_6:30 Me_

_I’d love that but no rush. I had a really bad day._

  


The temptation to call Ren subsided halfway through the drive. He also kept himself from dialing up his parents, and that was probably for the best. Once he arrived back at his apartment complex, everything was just like always. The place was quiet, with the occasional resident carrying a load of trash out to their dumpsters. The weather had made it somewhat boggy. Taking the slippery steps up to his floor, Connor felt pain in his ankles from his strenuous last day at work. At least nobody could steal the refuge ahead of him, even if it was tiny. Connor passed five or six doors before coming to a stop at his room and used the key to unlock it. Inside were familiar cozy sights; the flatscreen in his living room next to the futon and loveseat, the kitchen counter where remnants of his breakfast cereal still sat, and the window blinds in his bedroom visibly parted. Yes, this was his little escape but without a steady source of income, it was at risk.

He took the first few minutes to undress from his uniform. Despite being fired, he still folded the white and beige officer garb and hung them together on one hanger. He respected the profession, even if he no longer respected his boss. From here, he decided to grab a simple T-shirt with black pants and headed out to the kitchen. He opened the freezer, locating something in the door cubby unfrozen, waiting for him in a decorated glass bottle.

Connor poured himself a small bit of liquor into a cup, unable to think straight as he added the soda to top it off. This wasn’t even a full shot, but then again, he just wanted to lay down on his futon and stop thinking entirely. Perhaps part of him was ashamed that his first reaction was to drink, that he was starting a horrible habit. He left the bottle on the counter, the struggle inside of him to pour more growing worse by the second.

He would have loved to visit the ocean right now, take a stroll down the beach, but the brunet was fifty miles from the coastline and would have to settle for something else. He took the cup to the living room, plopped down and leaned his head back with his poorly-mixed drink still in hand. He wasn’t sure what emotion he was feeling, but recognized at the very least it was one he hadn’t ever quite understood. It was flat and empty, like he should be feeling something and yet whatever that was had eluded him.

Nothing he did worked out. Any shred of happiness was good in the moment, but the instant he left a room it just vanished. He felt like he was always in pursuit of fleeting emotion. It hit him that he couldn’t see himself a year from now, much less five years down the road like all the others at school. They all had a plan for their lives, a general goal to make money or settle down and start a family. He had none of those, no idea what he could possibly do. All he wanted was some way to be happy. He attended university for virtually no reason other than his parents guilted him into it, and as much as he enjoyed security work it was a dead end job with zero regard for the worker’s dignity. All he had were these terrible powers which brought pain for not just him, but anyone involved with him.

Before he could finally process his depression and reach for the remote, his cell phone went off in his pocket. Reading the name, Connor felt sudden relief at the thought of Steph’s voice and swigged down what little remained in his cup, answering the call.

“What happened?” Steph asked quickly, and even though the topic was dreary Connor was so happy to hear her.

“Got fired,” he replied, attempting to hide the lump in his throat. “Would like it if I wasn’t alone for tonight.”

“When tonight?” the digital artist inquired, surprising him. He hadn’t thought she’d say yes, and now that she was interested he didn’t want to pressure her further.

“You aren’t busy?” he questioned, trying to make sure he wasn’t intruding. “I don’t want to ruin your night.”

“That’s the best part about being your own boss,” she told him, and he could already picture the smirk on her face. “You’re having an emergency, you need somebody.”

“Thank god for you,” Connor said softly, staring up at his popcorn ceiling. “Eight o’clock, Joe Kittinger park?”

“The one next to the airport?” clarified Steph.

“Right. If it’s not too much trouble on you, that is. I don’t want to bother you,” Connor had to make sure she wasn’t doing this out of pity. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way, but Steph was just such a great friend and that left him with an odd sense of guilt.

“I understand. I’ll be there. Just ride it out until you see me,” encouraged the auburn-haired woman over the phone. “Have you talked to Aub today?”

“Today was the first time in a while,” Connor told her. “I was wondering about that.” There was a short pause on Steph’s end of the phone, prompting Connor to wonder if Aubrey was alright.

“I’m wondering, too. She’s acted… off the past few days.” Feeling concern over Aubrey’s behavior seemed a little preemptive in Connor’s opinion, but that could be a good thing. Aubrey tended to put everyone else before her own problems and lately, he _had_ taken notice of her increasing silence. Try as he might, he wasn’t able to get much out of her aside from home and school stress.

“We’ll figure it out soon, I hope,” Connor assured her. “Aubrey did say she’d call me later.”

“Alright. We’ll get to that when it comes, okay? Peace out,” Steph said as she ended the call, likely to finish up some work Connor assumed he had interrupted. _Thank god for all of them._ The happy grin he had worn during the phone call contorted away as he was left to himself. Slowly, the dark, perturbing thoughts returned. He still felt like a waste of space.

Connor tried to blow off some steam and time by being productive. Gathering up all the supplies necessary, he started to clean his apartment. It was a nice distraction as he scrubbed the kitchen’s surfaces and floor, but his uneasiness only spread. Once he reached the bathroom, realizing the task was a tad more monumental than the living room or kitchen, he put the supplies down and acted on an urge to text the person he missed the most. However, Ren hadn’t responded to him in at least a day, which only continued to stress him out. She hadn’t even warned him she’d be going off the grid and she hadn’t come online since the previous day. _What’s the point, Connor? She’s not going to answer you. Obviously has shit going on and you can’t change that_.

The only way Connor figured he’d focus was by eliminating distractions. Powering down his cell phone, he slid it into his pocket to worry about later. Instead of continuing the deep clean his bathroom probably needed, Connor walked into his bedroom and laid down on his now-made bed. On the pillow beside him was a new semester registration form, a topic that was sickening to consider right now. He thought back to the liquor bottle in the kitchen, the desire to kill the entire thing taking hold. Hopefully, he could handle it responsibly later that night once he met with Steph.

The park was about a half hour from his apartment, so the brunet allowed himself time to nap before getting what little energy he had to channel into the trip. Orlando traffic bumped that to something like forty-five or so, but that wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to.

 _Eight o’five_. He was nearly on time, pulling off the road and into the curving entry to Joe Kittinger park. Being next to the Orlando airport, it made sense that at the back of the place was a replica fighter jet under floodlights. The second thing he took notice of was the blue Kia Soul evenly parked, meaning Steph had been here for a little while before him.

“At least I won’t be waiting,” he happily mused to himself as he pulled up beside her Soul. Once he put the car in park and popped the trunk, he glanced up into the rear-view mirror, seeing a memorial of sorts that stood proudly behind the parking spaces. A few pillars partitioned it from the road, likely to stop cars from coming too close to the marble stand and plaque. He presumed that it must’ve been dedicated to the man this park was named after, and gave his silent respects. Connor opened the car door and grabbed his nightstick, still holstered, sliding it onto his belt loop after a minute. Until he began to feel safe again, he wasn’t going without it. The last thing on the list was the chilled liquor in his trunk. The brunet waltzed over to the back of his car and popped the trunk, while giving Steph’s clean Kia a look-over. _You know, I wasn’t sure if she’d be a blue or red girl_.

After grabbing the alcohol, he was on his way down the sidewalk adjacent to a black fence on one side and tall trees to his right. Beyond those trees was the highway, giving the area noise pollution from both the airport and the busy traffic of Orlando. The sign that warned newcomers skating and biking of any kind was banned left him wondering just how much his friends would’ve liked this park.

Even though the sun had left and the park itself gave him a chill, it was the type of spook he enjoyed: that thrill of being scared, of having risk in your life. It was exactly the kind of feeling he needed to take the edge off. Soon enough, after a walk that had to be shorter than it appeared, Connor was standing below the belly of the fighter jet on display. It was massive once he stood underneath it, with the floodlights near the playground keeping it lit for any passerby on the highway to glance at. _This reminds me of better times. Before it got difficult, back when dad took me to the Smithsonian. The air and space museum was so cool._

Beyond the fairly standard playground was a blue pavilion, where an auburn-haired woman in a purple dress eagerly stood, waving at him. Her iconic beanie was absent, but he bet she still had the dragon necklace around her neck. Sure enough, Steph was wearing it when he got close enough to take a gander. She looked happy to see Connor, her eyes darting from him down to the cold alcohol in his hands.

“Hey there, Connor,” Steph said as she opened up her arms. He took up her offer and hugged the woman lightly, unsure what kind of hug was right here or if it even mattered what kind of hug he gave. He plopped down on the metal picnic table and sat the liquor on the tabletop as Steph joined him to his right. A breeze started up, blowing both his and her hair madly about before the calm returned. Now that he thought about it, they would probably witness an airplane taking off or landing right over their heads, given the proximity to Orlando International. As Steph leaned in and propped herself up with a hand on her lap, Connor pushed the whiskey over to her. Steph turned her head to grin at him, but her eyes were tired and her posture all the same. It seemed like he had rescued her today as much as she was rescuing him.

“You know that Orlando PD could show up at any time to get us after curfew,” Steph said cynically, taking the whiskey off of the table and unscrewing the lid.

“Yeah,” Connor replied, nodding. “They could.” Not that he gave a fuck, and her shrug indicated she didn’t either. While Steph brought the bottle up to her lips, Connor quickly took her arm and directed it towards him, stealing the first swig. The burn on his throat was preferable to feeling nothing, but the scoff that Steph made elicited a sweet, deep chuckle from Connor. Yeah, he was _fucking glad_ she was in his life.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to carry that thing around,” Steph commented before taking a gulp of the dark liquor. Connor glanced down at the nightstick attached to his belt, and again nodded.

“Yeah. I haven’t felt safe without it.” Steph smiled, looking out to the swampy lake that dumped out from an irrigation ditch. Pylons strutted out from the river, remnants of a thin cement bridge, and barriers running through the water were there to remind anybody at the park exactly where it ended and the airport began.

“I’ve had a less than picturesque afternoon myself,” Steph took another drink from the bottle, Connor watching her scrunch her forehead.

“I can relate,” he said while snickering dryly. He caught Steph eyeing him before she snapped back to the pylons in the water ahead of them, and then she tried taking a larger load from the bottle. This time, she groaned in disgust and passed it back to Connor. Frankly, he was proud of her for the amount of liquor she’d already consumed on such short notice. He let the alcohol run down his tongue and throat, slowly nursing the bottle, before setting it back on the table. They’d had enough for a bit.

“I had to do work for that friend I told you about. Mikey.”

“Oh yeah?” Connor prodded. “Why’s that bad?” He knew about Mikey North now, the boy being her fanclub CEO and all. Steph always spoke fondly of him.

“Because I can handle strangers and professionals. With him, I have to stress out.”

“What do you have to worry about?” he asked her, disbelieving. Steph just stared out across the lake, headlights from the highway reflecting off of the unmoving water. The digital artist began shifting, jumping up to the tabletop where she crossed her hands into her lap.

“He’s a great friend. I don’t wanna be mean to him. When it comes to conceptual design, sometimes you have to say things that could come off badly.”

“What are you even doing for him?” asked Connor curiously.

“A really complicated ‘get well’ gift for Mr. North. His dad. I’m so afraid of messing it up and I’m afraid to give him some constructive criticism.”

“If anyone can do this, Steph, it’s you. And the worst part is, you _know_ it.” He caught her lips quirked as her hand crawled through the hair on the side of her head.

“Yeah, I know it. It’s just super important to get it done A-S-A-P. Mr. North is _really_ ill.”

“How ill?” he inquired, sensing the strain in her speech. He didn’t want to assume, but it didn’t sound good. “Not fatal, right?”

“Don’t know.” Steph labored a sigh. “He just started having really bad abdominal pain that never went away. He’s been in and out of the hospital, but this time it sounds like he’s been grounded for a while.” Connor knew that any extended hospital tenure was a bad sign, but even with the sad topic, he thought it was nice to let Steph vent. All he needed right now was to be around someone he trusted, someone he knew cared. _And my story isn’t going to be particularly happy either._

“So,” Steph remarked while sitting up straight and elbowing him in the neck. “You ready to spill the beans on what happened today?” With a grin of his own, he reached for the bottle, only now starting to feel the alcohol settling in his stomach. This batch was going to creep up on him for sure, as it would her.

“Not yet. More liquor first. I’m just relieved you came.” The digital artist shot him a narrow look, slowly turning her head away from the lake.

“Please don’t be too emo tonight?” she said, jabbing him again with her elbow. As he laughed and his hand found purchase on the alcohol, a glimmer of movement stole his attention. It was almost too dark to spot, but an unidentified person was walking up to them on the other path from the parking lot. They were hugging the fence, as if it were a defensive barrier. Once Connor stood up and turned towards them, the unknown person slowed their pace. He could see the worn out gray hoodie and a face too far away to distinguish, though they returned no words or signals. _Okay, this is setting off my red flags._

“Who is that?” Steph asked in alarm, tugging on Connor’s arm.

“Not police,” he quietly said, trying to study their appearance. Along with the worn out hoodie, he spotted something black and bulky on their waist. Instinctively, the former security officer rested his hand on his nightstick. If they had a gun and he pulled it out, he would be history. _If_ they had a gun. There was no way to be sure from this distance, so when Connor called out a hello to them, they only stopped to stare. Then they began to walk towards them again, steadily creeping along the sidewalk and fence. His heart skipped a beat and he gripped the top of his baton even harder.

“We’ve gotta go,” Steph hastily said, jumping down from the table. Connor squinted his eyes, still unable to discern whether they had a gun holster in the darkness or not. He agreed with her, nodding in affirmation and moving as fast as he could away from the fenced-in playground and towards the display jet. He figured if they get onto the side of the road, where there was ample lighting and plenty of witnesses, then whoever this was would think twice on following them. As they started to run, he looked back to see the unknown person hadn’t changed their pace. They were still honing in, but appeared to be taking their time. Their hand now rested on the bulky thing attached to their waist, leaving Connor to assume the worst.

They had just reached the jet when he spotted more movement to his immediate right. Moving up the same path he had taken was another person, considerably scrawnier than the last, coming right for them about nine or ten yards ahead. He couldn’t see anything on their person, only that they were, like the other, coming right for them like two pack-hunting predators. Connor once again reached for his baton, noticing suddenly that the digital artist had been holding onto his arm for dear life. He shook Steph to let go of him, pointing for her to get moving. These men were here to hurt them, but if they thought they were dragging Steph into this shit, they were wrong.

“Run for the street, now,” he commanded her. Steph kept shooting glances back to the pavilion, to Connor and the new threat, confused. “Now!” Connor shouted, finally watching Steph turn tail and do as he asked. Any sense of intoxication was gone. He couldn’t hesitate, drawing his baton from the holster and flicking it over his shoulder, the nightstick extending to full length. He bent his knees and raised his free hand up, bracing for the new attacker. _If this is finally happening, at least I have a reason to let loose!_

The newcomer came at him, ducking into a tackle as he narrowly missed Connor’s waist. Connor nearly whacked him across the face with the full brunt of his baton, stepping to the side. The former security guard started to put distance between them, moving backwards down the path toward the parking lot. He shot a glance at the possible shooter still far away, who was slowly but surely gaining on them along the edge of the fence. The one right in front of him spat on the ground, puffing out his chest. Connor gritted his teeth as they charged him, but he wasn’t quick enough to dodge this time. While Connor was winded, hands wrapped around his neck and began to squeeze, digging into the sides. Despite the man’s underweight appearance, the brunet slowly weakened and felt himself being forced onto the ground. If they were able to pin down his hands with their knees, this was over. If he was going out, it would be on _his_ terms, not the Yatagarasu’s.

As he went down, Connor resisted the urge to grab at the attacker’s hands and instead flung the baton straight into the man’s kneecaps. _He had this one fucking coming_ . The combatant screamed but didn’t relent, as if it had hardly grazed him. _That’s impossible, there’s no way he shouldn’t have gone down!_ This was bad, because Connor was starting to feel lightheaded and dizzy. If he fainted, they had him. It was time to put some of his baton practice to use. Connor crossed one hand under the other, laying the baton across his attacker’s wrists while the hands around his neck grew tighter. Grabbing the baton’s tip with his right hand Connor yanked down on the joints in his wrists. This was enough for their grip to loosen from the pain, allowing Connor to push him off and gasp for air. Within an instant, he could see the man recovering and he took his shot. The brunet drew the baton under his right arm, raising his arm until he flung the baton with momentum across the scrawny man’s face. He watched them hit the ground shoulder first, unresponsive.

Connor knew that technique would only work once, and he had spent too much time in that chokehold. He bolted across the field and past the fighter jet, his heart pounding so hard that it stung to inhale and exhale. Without even thinking about it, Connor climbed over the fence and sprinted down the side of the highway, where several vehicles passed him. Way ahead, Steph was waiting for him near the trees and a road sign. _What the fuck is she still doing here?_ He wanted her to be as far away from here as possible and yet she stayed.

“Connor!” Steph shouted loudly as he skidded to a halt in front of her. He was pissed that she stuck around, putting herself in harm’s way but she immediately threw her arms around him. “You just kicked that guy’s ass!”

“You need to fucking go, Steph! It’s not safe!” protested Connor, pushing her hug away. “You’re gonna get yourself killed if you stick around.”

“And you aren’t?” she shot back. “I can’t leave you here!”

“He’s right. You should’ve left.” Connor steadily turned, seeing the gray hooded man with his pistol drawn on them. Under the street light, he could see the thick-browed older man with a face that showed imprudence. He was still catching his breath, but with a gun already pointed it was next to impossible they could run away from this.“On your knees, please. We don’t want to make a mess in front of all these civilians.”

“Do it!” shouted Connor, taking a step forward with outstretched arms. He refused to lower his nightstick. “Do me a fucking favor!” The man in the hood scowled.

“I said, on your knees,” he repeated.

“Oh no,” Connor said, almost laughing. “You’ll just have to kill me. But that’s not what _they_ want, is it?” The hooded man shrugged, a curled lip on his face.

“We don’t have time for this shit, Mr. Papworth.” Connor took another step forward, his courage growing.

“You aren’t shooting me and we’re walking away,” he commanded. The hooded man clicked his tongue, raising his chin and aimed the gun away from Connor to the woman behind him. The brunet growled and froze, wanting to beat this man senseless for threatening her.

“Here’s your choice: do as I say or she bites the bullet.” Connor shot the digital artist a look, taking in the pure confusion and terror across her countenance. _She shouldn’t have stuck around!_

“Stop,” Connor demanded.

“Touching,” the hooded man remarked. “How about this: You come here, or else I put one in your leg. Then,” he said to Steph, “unless _he_ gets on his knees, I shoot _you_ . Either you listen or I shoot the _both_ of you and call it a day.” The unbridled rage threatening to spill out right now was beyond anything Connor had ever felt. He was afraid but not for himself; for everyone he had ever come into contact with always at the end of a loaded gun. The question was whether he had it in him to do what he should’ve done a year ago with Hugh Olhouser. At that time, he had hesitated and it had nearly cost Max her life. He hadn’t wanted to be a murderer, nor had he wanted to live with that on his conscience.

It was less than a second. Steph must’ve set him off, or moved the wrong way. The man quickly brought the gun to bare at Steph again and Connor assumed the worst. Jabbing out his baton at the man, Connor screaming for him to stop and then it all happened so fast. A bolt of lightning travelled down his nightstick and hit the man square in the chest. The immense flash forced Connor to cover his eyes, but an explosion followed. He heard the street lights blow out and saw darkness at the corners of his sight. When he opened his eyes, the person who had threatened them only moments ago was a steaming corpse on the sidewalk, black scorch marks surrounding him. The traffic lights above were flickering just enough to see the corpse, burnt clothes and all. Connor’s anxiety was off the charts, feeling his blood pumping even in his hands as he checked every direction for lights. In the distance, far away, it seemed like electricity hadn’t been effected but for the local area, he had caused a blackout. He couldn’t do this anymore. His worst fears were realized.

He began to stare at the sight of the illuminated corpse in front of him, of the man that he had just burnt to a crisp. So what if he had been trying to save Steph? What if someone else had been nearby and caught in that? This wasn’t something any human being should have wielded. Frozen in time, Connor finally remembered that vengeance that had coursed through his veins once before and wanted nothing to do with it.

“Connor!” Behind him, Steph called out in broken pitch. He couldn’t bare the thought of looking her in the eye, but he turned and saw she was unharmed. That was all that mattered to him, because she could never see him again for her own safety. He bolted right past her, ignoring her calls. He didn't stop running until he rounded the perimeter, made it back to his car, unlocked the door and jumped in. The fierce rain that usually accompanied usage of his powers started coming down like needles, battering his windshield. It was happening. This had been part of their fucking plan and he had played right into it. Well, if he had any say on his destiny, nobody would use him ever again. This time, Max wasn’t here to fix everything. With that thought, he reversed, burning out as he hauled ass away from the scene.

The alcohol had hit him at some point on the fifty mile drive out to the coastline. Somehow he had made it there, bought a twelve pack and picked the most remote place he could think of; in this case, that meant the top of an abandoned six-story bank overlooking the ocean. It hadn’t stopped raining, not that he had bothered trying to stop it. He was done trying to control the weather and chose instead to dangle his legs off the edge in total darkness as he drank his tenth beer. He was so drunk that he wasn’t cold, and yet none of the pain or misery had disappeared. He had no idea whether he needed more alcohol or if this was truly the end of the world. He just wanted it all to stop. Living in fear, unable to see a future where he was safe and content was all he’d had for the past year. He could recall the man catching aflame, along with suppressed images from a discarded timeline where his friends had perished and he had fried Hugh Olhouser alive.

Instead of crying, which he had already done so much of that night, he began to hum the tune of a song Hyram had shown him so many years ago. The lyrics were haunting, the more he thought about it. It was the story of someone so tired of life that they found a way to escape.

“After two days in the desert sun, my skin began to turn red,” murmured Connor, removing the last two beers from his box and tossing it over the edge as the wind and rain intensified. “After three days in the desert fun, I was looking at a river bed.” The drunken weather manipulator then tried to stand, getting a sense of lightheadedness immediately. Realizing just how slammed he was and with wind swaying him left and right, he held onto a nearby pipe on the wall as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, leaning out over the edge. Six stories below him was nothing but concrete. If he slipped, that would be the end of it. He was _counting_ on that. All he had to do was let go and this would be done with. Nobody could ever use him to destroy the world ever again. “And the story it told of a river that flowed made me sad to think it was dead.” Yes, this was the only way to be sure. This was the only way every single person he knew would be safe.

Finally, he felt cold from the rain. His clothes were drenched, his hair a complete mess, and his will shattered. The shivers began, following more crying as he sang the song about the horse with no name. This place was his horse and it was about to deliver him to salvation and make it all stop.

“Connor, _stop !_ ”

Wobbling in the wind, Connor peered behind him to see the last person he had expected standing in the open doorway to the building’s staircase; Ren Yesfir, makeup smeared and hair erratically blowing in the wind. Her face was a mix of despair and exhaustion, and just like Steph he couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes.

“How the fuck did you find me?” shouted Connor over the blaring wind. He witnessed her placing one foot in front of the other, shielding her face from the wind. The grimace on her face was enough to bring the tears back out of him. She shouldn’t have been here to see him like this.

“What are you doing?” she asked forcefully, holding out her hand to him even though they were meters apart. Connor threw his arms into the air, balancing on the edge of the building to demonstrate precisely what he was doing.

“I’m going to end all of this!” Even as he said it, he saw her wince. The wind felt like razors as it cut at his face, out of control.

“Don’t do this, please,” she begged him. All he could picture now was how much this was going to hurt her and how she was involving herself more than she needed. She didn’t deserve to be here and witness this.

“I wish you hadn’t come!” he shouted. Ren violently shook her head, furrowing her brows with a twitching lip.

“No. I’m glad I did. Get over here, now!”

“I can’t,” Connor replied in a drunken sob. “Why did you have to come see me like this? I’m going to kill anyone I touch. I can’t do that to any of you.”

“That’s bullshit!” roared Ren, throwing her fist out.

“How the fuck would you know?” he asked her, wobbling and latching hold of the nearby pipe. The only sound filling the silence between them was the howling wind and stabbing rain. Ren looked so panicked, almost like she had spaced out of nowhere as she did on occasion. It stood out even now, but she quickly recovered, her eyes on him.

“I’ve lost _everything_ before!” Ren cried, clutching her chest.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Connor asked back quickly, his sobs only increasing.

“Doing _what_?” Ren shouted back, taking another step forward and prompting Connor to lean out towards the edge. She halted in her tracks, balling her fists. “I’m sorry!”

“I can’t be saved! Seriously,” he said, watching her take another step forward. “Stop walking.”

Ren halted, the wind pushing her back and forth. If he wanted, he could simply let go and hope he died on impact, right now. But then she’d be here and have to see it all. _Why the fuck did she have to show up?_

“Please, Connor. Stop this,” she pleaded with the suicidal Connor, “I know what you’re thinking, that there’s no other way but I promise you there is.”

“You know what I’m thinking? Why I’m doing this?” he angrily replied, eyes wide. He pulled himself in towards the building, and looked to the sea, closing his eyes. He focused on anger, hatred, fury in his mind. He pictured a cloud exploding until off in the distant sealine, an enormous golden lightning strike touched down in the ocean. The thunder that followed was so loud that Connor thought he was going to slip and fall. He turned back to her, still ashamed of the terrible power he possessed. “That is why! They want me to kill everyone, but they never considered this did they? Nobody will control me ever again, Ren!” He turned away again, this time getting the courage to finally finish the job. “They can’t end the world if they don’t have me!”

“PLEASE, Connor!” She screamed, crying. He hated hearing her like that. “Think of me and all your friends! Max, Aubrey, Steph, Hyram! Even your fucking parents want nothing but the best for you!”

“I,” Connor shakily sighed, feeling a thousand daggers in his back at that moment. “I am thinking of you all, especially of you. You’ll all be safer without me.” He watched Ren take two more cautious steps forward, his internal alarm screaming at him when he noticed she was suddenly bleeding from her nose.

“Connor!” she shouted, though weakly, lips quivering. “Connor, we can beat them together!”

“You can’t make that promise, Ren! You can’t. You don’t even know who they are.” Even this didn’t stop Ren as she took one more cautious step, so close to him now. He wanted to jump, but he couldn’t. Something wouldn’t let him do it.

“Y-yes, yes I can,” she insisted, the nosebleed continuing. “W-whoever they are, we c-can disappear, you and me. I’ve done it before, you can trust me.” That offer had to be too good to be true but this was Ren offering it. He realized she wasn’t lying, she was giving him a chance to escape from everything without isolation. Even now, part of him wanted to trust her and think that as long as she was with him, he’d be okay.

“Why would you want that with me?” Connor inquired, within touching range of Ren. “Why would anyone want that with someone like me?” She once more proffered a hand out to him, her eyes wild and strained. He wanted to take it so badly and just let her handle it all, but she’d only be in danger again. He let out a raspy sigh when she answered him.

“Because I can’t let anyone hurt you anymore. That’s why I found you.” The weather manipulator’s knees buckled and he fell forward, being caught by Ren as she came down on her thighs. Connor began to sob some more, and Ren just rested his face into her chest and cradled him by the head. He had almost forced her to watch him die, which was so fucked up. She would’ve had to live with that for the rest of her life. Ren’s hands begin to massage the back of his head, pulling him in close. The rain had stopped, the storm seemingly calmed, but they were shivering sick.

“I’m so fucking sorry for keeping you in the dark about who I am,” Ren whimpered, kissing the top of his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Connor firmly said. “None of this has been. This was all my fault.” Ren was crying herself now, which made him cry even harder. All he wanted to do was save her and everyone else from himself, and now she took it upon herself to save him. He didn’t know if this was love or simply someone doing what they felt was right, but what was building up in his chest was enormous.

“We’ll escape all of this,” she stated, heavily. “We’ll run forever if we have to.” This was what he needed to hear, someone willing to hide away with him until they figured out how to stop it from happening. He wanted to tell her that she had no obligation to, but he felt he wasn’t sober enough to articulate it. She had just watched him summon lightning from his mind and was still here, holding him and kissing him. If she wasn’t serious, she wouldn’t have done this. She wouldn’t have _found_ him. That would be explained later. For now, he needed _this_.

They both kept crying until there were no more tears left to shed. The rain had completely disappeared, as had the fierce winds, leaving them a huddling mess on the roof of an abandoned bank. They were holding on tighter than he had ever held onto someone.

“I changed my mind,” Connor sniffled. “Im so fucking glad you came.” Ren, wiping away her bloodied nose and tears, smiled at him with a gasp.

“I couldn’t lose you, not like I lost Shi.” Connor, ignorant to the name just dropped, let it slide. If that was proof that she’d finally tell him everything, then that was enough for him.

“I’m not going anywhere unless you’re going with me,” he solemnly swore. She looked down at him as he looked up and she took her hand, adjusted his chin and kissed him. It might have been temporary, but he felt high and euphoric as they kept kissing, his hands drunkenly holding onto her shoulders. They must have gone on for a few minutes until they were content to pull away and gaze into each other’s eyes. They were still dirtied and cold as hell, but she’d saved his life. It didn’t matter how close to the edge he’d nearly gone, she’d just fucking saved him.

“Just so you know,” Ren started, “we’re never making out again while you’re drunk. That beer is gross.” Connor chuckled happily and stole a kiss from her again, collapsing into her stomach. She leaned back and let her hands rest on the back of his head. Once he was sober, he would check up with her again to make sure she really wanted to do this but for now, he was simply going to enjoy what they had, what they finally had, and what they had just risen above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burnt out and unbereft  
> This world there’s nothing left here  
> We can run together  
> Run, run, run Forever  
> Black holes and dying suns.  
> This world is truly done for  
> We could run together  
> Run, run, run, forever


	10. Excalibur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I have no idea if a regular upload schedule is currently attainable for me. Injuries, fulltime job, school, and on top of writing my book, I'm lucky to have this chapter perfect and complete as is. Regardless, I hope you enjoy. I've put a lot of effort into this one.

#  **Chapter Nine: Excalibur**

**_Saturday, May 14th, 2016, 8:02PM_ **

Beams of light flashed all about, each one a different hue of color and occasionally vanishing as those on the dance floor passed through them. The music playing dropped and blared so loud that Chloe could barely hear herself think. _Good._ She threw her arms into the air and swung her hips. The throng of people on the floor had only recently shown up; when she and Max had arrived about forty minutes prior, the DJ hadn’t charmed the building as he was doing now. _Beggars can’t be choosers._ She turned to see the lights on the floor swivel around to focus on the jockey, standing over his turntable. This was no concert, but it was Chloe’s only excuse to say ‘fuck it’ and let everything that had built up over the past few months out. She was unable to thrash here, but at least she could unravel a little bit of that fury inside.

The release came after a week of panicked phone calls from friends along with more sleepless nights of worry and disquietude with Max. _Thanks to Omar the weed man, I at least scored some hella bud_ . Technically, it wasn’t what the punk was accustomed to, but she had taken an edible hours earlier that had tempered her in both mood and expectations for the night. She smiled, thinking about the weed, still committed to the rhythm of the mosh waiting to happen. _Psh. Like this place would handle a mosh_ . Throwing her head into the air, Chloe looked through the crowd toward the futuristic bar where her girlfriend sat, staring down at her phone on the bartop. Instead of getting her dance on with Chloe, Max seemed restless, playing with her bottle of cheap beer, propping herself up with one hand. _I guess I don’t blame her considering what she’s been going through._ Chloe’s smile faded, though she hadn’t dropped her arms. Once again wearing the burgundy sundress with dress shoes and her hair tied up in an adorable librarian fashion, Max Caulfield was still Chloe’s Knightess in shining armor, no matter what.

Max’s gaze rose to meet Chloe’s briefly, before quickly dropping back down to her phone. Even as Chloe’s Knightess, Max was still terrible at hiding things from her. Sure, as long as she didn’t leave Chloe’s sight, the punk felt comfortable enough leaving her to her own devices, though she had been growing concerned over how unhappily drunk her photographer seemed. Old habits, familiar ones not just from Max but ones Chloe had seen in many others, had resurfaced. Max had always had a bit of spaciness to her ever since their return trip to Arcadia Bay, but lately she had been far more intense, locking eyes more often than Chloe was used to. Her gestures had been so unusual for the type of woman Max was to the point where Chloe could tell a contrived smile from a real one. The brunette’s eyes and face simply gave it away every time. The punk had had to learn how to handle dishonesty after so many years of it, but she simply didn’t know what Max would have to lie about, now.

The beat blaring from the surround sound softened as another song took over, strong vocals from a feminine voice. Chloe closed her eyes and blew the air out of her lungs, waiting for the next heavy portion to hit. She found it ironic that she was putting so much energy into this, when the thought of confronting Max would easily sap all of her strength. She was tired of feeling that way. The swing of her hips, the rhythm of her body was a culmination of mental exhaustion going back months. The strawberry blonde really wished Max would make the first move and honor their promise, because Chloe really didn’t want to be upset with the most important person in her life. Of all the funny reasons, she was actually scared of being too mean to Max or coming off too unreasonable. There was no bond stronger than Chloe and Max’s, but lies or secrets of any kind still stung her deep.

Instead of a heavy transition, the music became faster and more consistent. This song had been one she’d heard many times accompanying Rachel around. Chloe shook her head, the hues of the spotlights above changing to a solid red. Her love life had always been complicated. _How many times did Rachel and I screw up joints like this?_ At least once, she and Rachel had bribed a bouncer to sneak in and got super fucked. Another, Steph had actually gotten them into a concert and Chloe received her first bruise in a mosh and wore it like a badge of honor. _Hah. That time with those skeevy fuckers at Firewalk doesn’t count_. Slowly, as she drifted deeper and deeper into her memory of Rachel Amber and all the times they’d shared, she almost felt lighter. Perhaps it was the edible, but Chloe could almost feel the gorgeous woman pressing up against her as she had done at so many parties and concerts. The punk reflexively twitched at the thought of Rachel’s lips tracing her neck, hands wandering her midriff in the middle of the dance floor.

 _I’m with Max now, and Rachel’s not coming back. Not really._ Chloe’s eyes opened, again looking around for her girlfriend at the bar. Max hadn’t moved an inch since they had last met eyes, but Chloe could see she had grabbed another beer and finished her last. It made her sad that she wasn’t with her and decided that this would be her last song for a while, so she could enjoy her time with the photographer.

Thinking back on Rachel was hard given the current state of affairs, but Chloe still knew and accepted that she was gone. That didn’t stop her curiosity about this other Rachel that Max had encountered; what kind of woman she had become, what her relationship with her version of Chloe could’ve been like and what she had to do with Time Prick. _If that’s how this multiverse shit works_ . She knew that in the moment, her attitude was unusually tame about this idea of meeting a brand new human being who could very well be identical to Rachel Amber but _not_ her. Had she not been on the dance floor with her knees already bent, they might have buckled at the thought.

Her legs almost _did_ buckle as someone brushed up against her, forcing a frightened jump from Chloe. Whoever it was had already rested their hands on her waist, going from strike one to strike ten in an instant. She spun around, ready to deck whoever it was. The young man wasn’t gross, but observably wasted. The drunk kept trying speak to her over the booming crowd and music, but it was useless. Chloe shook her head when he tried to get closer, and she lightly jabbed him in the gut, hoping that her message was perfectly clear that time around. She didn’t feel at all in danger, though her comfort was dropping the longer this dude continued not to fuck off. With a cracked confusing grin, the man backed off with his hands raised as if that was apology enough _. Yeah, my mood’s fucked now. Great job, nice guy of the night_. Chloe looked over shoulder towards the bar, deciding it was time to go cheer up Max when she realized Max wasn’t where the punk had left her.

Frantic for only an instant, Chloe scanned the flashing room for her photographer until she caught the brunette in her sundress rounding the corner to the bathroom. _That’s definitely not where I left you._ Fearing that Max had just witnessed some stranger with hands on her, Chloe immediately began pushing her way off of the dance floor. Moving past couples holding onto one another only seemed to rub it in until she finally found her footing on the plain concrete a step below the dance floor. She marched past tables of drunken patrons, seeing the woman tending the bar frown at her as if Chloe were part of some joke. As the music grew slightly faint, she rounded the corner where the plaque labelled ‘Bathrooms’ directed, being immediately surprised by two girls making out against the back wall near the men’s restroom. Chloe rolled her eyes and pushed open the door to the women’s, unpleasantly brushed aside by an older woman with red hair and no regard for anybody else as she stormed out of the bathroom.

Chloe was starting to get really pissed off. All she wanted was to check on Max and all of a sudden, little obstacles were popping up along the way. Chloe eyed the other woman who had pushed her with scorn until they disappeared behind the corner to join the rest of the sheep. _So much for tonight._ She walked into the restroom, the music now feint behind the sound of pipes with rushing water, ostensibly from the men’s room only a wall over. The teal paint had started peeling and at least one sink looked as if it had been never cleaned in it’s life. Chloe’s eyes looked down to the floor of the first stall, seeing no one inside.

“Max, it’s me.” Chloe moved on to the next stall, knocking on it. “Where are you?”

“At the end,” answered Max in a cracked voice. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” Chloe retorted, stopping outside of the last stall. She heard Max sniffle, and sighed. “Max. Let me in?”

“Chloe, it’s okay,” said Max, which Chloe knew to be a lie. “You already do so much for me.”

“Look,” Chloe began, “I got rid of him.” She folded her arms and leaned against the wall, staring down her red shirt and skinny jeans. “That caught me off guard as much as it did you.”

“What do you mean?” Max said behind the stall. “Did something happen?”

“God, Max,” Chloe replied, her eyes becoming heavy. “Can you please open the stall already? I know you’re fucking crying.” There was nothing from Max for a minute, prompting Chloe to kick at the door with her boot. After her insistence, Chloe heard Max unlatch the stall. Chloe stood up and peered through the open stall to see just what she had expected. Her brunette was puffy-eyed, one hand buried in her hair which she had undone from it’s librarian style, and seated on a toilet lid. Chloe pushed the door toward the wall, seeing the blood trailing down Max’s lips from her nose.

“Shit,” Chloe winced. “What did you rewind?”

“Nothing,” Max told her, sniffling. “It didn’t work.”

“That’s not good,” admitted the punk, suppressing tons of images involving Max’s bloodied ears and nose and disasters that felt like decades ago.

“I’m sorry,” Max apologized, seemingly for nothing. Shaking her head, Chloe crouched down on one knee and reached over to touch the photographer. She hadn’t expected Max to shrug it off, but with her night already sour, Chloe wasn’t letting this get any worse. She took Max by the bottoms of her shoulders and pulled her up, trying to encourage her shorter brunette to stand. After little resistance, Max whined and came down into Chloe’s lap instead. Wishing not to see Max cry further, Chloe ran her hand across Max’s cheeks, earning her a depressed smile. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking pathetic, Chloe.”

“Shut up,” Chloe said shortly, her eyes jumping from Max’s beautiful blue eyes to the promise ring necklace she had made. Seeing her wearing it again, regardless of their current issues, felt fucking good. “You are not, alright babe? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“Everything.” Max came in close and rested her head on Chloe’s chest. The strawberry blonde leaned in and hugged Max, though she was a little disappointed. It might have been an admission of actual guilt.

“Does that mean you’ll start telling me everything again?” Max twitched under the hint and tried pulling away, when Chloe dragged her back in. “No, no.” Releasing her girlfriend, Max sat in her lap only inches from her face. “Starting tonight, when we get home? I’ll even watch one of those cheesy art films you want me to see so much.”

“Okay,” cried Max. “Okay. I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid?” asked Chloe, unsure where this was going.

“Afraid of what you’ll do when I tell you everything,” Max said. _Anxiety spike, 90 to 120_. Chloe wanted to wince, but she couldn’t. As much as her mind told her to do this now, she resisted. It would be better behind closed doors and with a less stressing environment. Chloe sighed, patting Max on the back of the head. The punk couldn’t measure exactly what she was feeling, but whatever was rising was soon to spill out. She only hoped whatever Max was going to dump on her wouldn’t be as crazy as a three-year time leap.

“Tonight,” Chloe committed. “When we get home, the talk’s happening.”

“I’ve ruined your night,” Max said, trying to look away. Chloe reached up and nudged her by the chin, guiding her lips to the punk’s. They exchanged a soft kiss until Chloe pat the side of her head.

“Our night’s still young, and it’s time we get outta here.” Chloe slowly stood up and held Max’s hands as she got to her feet, the photographer maintaining a shy, almost blissful eye contact with her. _Not gonna lie, Max on her knees isn’t_ all _depressing._

“This was your night,” Max protested again. “It’s not fair for you to drop it all for me.”

“Come on, Maxaroni,” teased Chloe as she took the lead. “I’ve seen enough of this place for a while. Unless you actually _need_ to use the bathroom.”

“Chloe,” Max stopped in her tracks. “I love you, but we _paid_ to get in here. I can’t let you do this.”

“Too bad, eh? I always have next time,” Chloe said, even though she knew well that their work schedules would conflict with the sentiment. “Let me take care of you, damnit.”

“No,” Max said, this time cheerier. Chloe looked back to see her girlfriend in higher spirits but didn’t smile. Max was, of all things, putting on a mask and Chloe was all too familiar with masks.

With that, Chloe led the way out of the bathroom, steering Max away from the lavish couple in the corner who still had hands all over each other. The second reason for all her exhaustion, of course, was due to the constant care given to Max in her time of need. Her solace came from the fact that a happy Max obviously meant a happy Chloe, and that had the roles been reversed she was confident Max would have put all her effort into it as well. Unfortunately, that didn’t make it any less draining coupled with this secret they were going to discuss later.

After paying the tab and fighting their way out of the ever-increasing group inside the building, Chloe and Max had made it back to the rusted old Price-mobile. Once inside, they breathed a sigh of relief. Max didn’t always enjoy claustrophobic environments for reasons Chloe wouldn’t dredge up, and she had never been a huge fan of high class clubbing. Just resting inside her truck, admiring the graffiti on the cabin wall and the bobble-head glued to the dashboard was enough to remind the two that this truck was their own little world. There would always be a comfort behind the wheel of her truck, and she hoped that it would never change. Taking another look at her hot mess of a date, Chloe leaned across the cabin, holding Max by the shoulders. When the photographer coyly turned to face her, Chloe did not kiss her. She wanted to get the point across that she meant what she said by ‘everything, tonight’.

“Chloe, are you… mad at me?” asked Max as Chloe let go of the brunette’s shoulders.

“I don’t know,” answered Chloe. “It’s nice to see the ring again.” Max felt the necklace around her neck as the punk focused on starting the car. She blinked and inhaled, hearing Max struggle to say whatever was on her mind. “Just save it. We’ll do this soon.”

Twenty minutes passed since they had left the club before Chloe realized that they were making record time home even for the busy LA highway. In the passenger seat, Max had curled up into the corner where the door met the wall. In a change of heart, Chloe decided on some light-hearted music from her childhood rather than the usual rock or metal. It was her compromise to let Max sleep, since she probably needed the rest before their talk. Checking the time, Chloe realized she hadn’t been off-base at all about the time of night. If they chose to, even a waltz down the street from Crestfall would still be safe and enjoyable. _In other words, don’t give up hope yet, Price._

Chloe glanced up at her rearview mirror, noting the raggedy truck bed and sparsely populated highway—that was to say, sparse for Los Angeles standards—and was so glad to see no trace of the red muscle car that had plagued her only two months prior. However, thinking about those days reminded Chloe of yet another elephant in the room that neither she nor Max had known how to handle for the past week. As Steph had described it, Connor had ‘beaten down a man with his nightstick’ which Chloe thought sounded pretty badass for him, but had then lit another on fire with a lightning strike that had knocked out power to a quarter of Orlando. It had even delayed flights at the airport, apparently. Now, no one could get in touch with Connor, and Ren wasn’t responding to Steph.

She tightened her grasp on the steering wheel. Everything seemed to be ramping up and if Time Prick was getting this bold, then she feared the worst for her and Max. It was already disaster enough that the guy who could create and manipulate the weather was missing, but the woman who could manipulate time? It was only a matter of time before trouble showed up on their doormat. _Fuck feeling helpless. I’m not helpless and neither is Max._ She told herself this, but the sad reality was that she had felt helpless so many times that rehearsing these words in her head was the only way to cope. Sometimes, things happened and spare for a ‘timely’ intervention, there was nothing she could do. Chloe peeked over at Max, napping with her hands wrapped around her camera bag on her lap. Seeing Max half asleep with the street lights outside occasionally illuminating her face, Chloe tried to take hold of the hand closest to her.

From the corner of her eye, a flash of blue alarmed her and she jerked her hand back to the steering wheel. Chloe swerved as the blue four-door cut in front of her from the middle lane, with no turn signal at all. The little car sped ahead of her and she began to press down on her gas pedal, working the truck’s accelerator harder than likely required. Max had already jolted awake from the sudden swerve, something Chloe couldn’t help.

“What happened?” asked Max. Chloe looked away for a second to Max and then back to the road, groaning.

“Fuckers don’t really get that I’m in the slow lane, do they?” The car that had cut her off had slowed to the speed limit and through his cabin window, Chloe could see a hand raised and a middle finger extended. “What the fuck is his problem?”

“Calm down,” Max suggested, though that made Chloe grit her teeth.

“Why? Nobody else is giving us a break, why should I?” As her truck gained on the driver in the blue car ahead, wondering whether she should cut him off in revenge or not, she felt a hand on her shoulder and a kiss on her cheek. It was hard not to relax with Max’s hair tickling the nape of her neck and her lips pressed against her skin. Chloe let off the gas.

“It’s okay,” the brunette whispered to the strawberry blonde, moving back to her own seat and adjusting both the seat belt and camera bag. Chloe breathed in, letting the asshole drive off with her foot on the floor, away from the accelerator. She breathed out and blinked, registering exactly what Max had whispered to her. She wished it was true.

“No,” Chloe said back, considering that Max was a nervous wreck, that they were in a plot involving doomsday, and that she was hiding things again. She had chosen to direct her anger out on the easiest target, the driver ahead. “No it’s not.”

She resumed driving, slowly aware of the fact that she had hurt Max’s feelings. It was true, Max was only trying to calm her down and she had said something very uncalled for but Chloe couldn’t feel the remorse. It was _also_ true that things were _not_ okay. She had come a long way with her anger problems from her youth, but Chloe had always struggled when it came to those she cared deeply for. Perhaps the meaning of her sentence cut harsher than intended, but truth be told Chloe wasn’t ready to apologize. She wanted Max to be real with her on whatever was happening. The rest of the drive was far from remarkable as Chloe was stuck in her melancholy mood. They were only minutes away from Crestfall and soon Chloe could shed her clothes and dig into a tub of ice cream or something else severely self-gratifying.

Even from the driver’s seat, Chloe could pick up on the phone vibrating in Max’s pocket. Though the road ahead seemed devoid of street light, she still noticed Max reading her phone’s screen, sliding the green arrow to the right and putting the phone to her ear. The punk was naturally curious since Max only picked up the phone for family, work, or those close like her. She heard Aubrey’s distinct panicked speech but couldn’t make out any of her words. Glancing at Max, she could see her girlfriend was overwhelmed by whatever Aubrey was saying.

“What’s up?” Chloe asked as Max, while looking at her, told Aubrey to slow down. Chloe leaned in on the steering wheel and slowed to a crawl at a stop sign, curious to what Aubrey was up in arms about. In fairness, Connor and Ren were completely worth freaking out about if that was the topic.

“That’s great news!” Max said excitedly, her eyes darting back to Chloe. “Steph might be safer here anyway.”

“Steph’s coming here?” Chloe blurted out in both shock and enthusiasm as Max gave her a nod. Chloe hadn’t seen Steph in the flesh since Blackwell and the aurburn-haired nerd was the second closest friend she had had. There was no understating how much Chloe wanted to hug Steph and have a proper reunion with… _Fuck, what was her name? My kickass elf barbarian! Callamastia, oh hell yes._

“Yeah. Of course I’m with Chloe.” Keeping her eyes on the road for their next left turn, the strawberry blonde listened harder for any trace of Aubrey’s side of the conversation. “You sent it to me?” _Sent what? You’re killing me, Smalls!_ Chloe heard Aubrey say ‘yes, look’. After that, Max brought the phone down to eye-level, opening up whatever Aubrey had sent her. Max gasped with one hand over her mouth. Chloe slowed down and turned to see her girlfriend’s eyes wide and wild.

“Max?” On the phone, Chloe heard Aubrey say, ‘right?’ “Max,” repeated Chloe, more insistently, returning her sight to the road ahead for a moment. In the distant suburbs, the flashes of blue and red emergency lights persisted. Chloe could only tell that the police were driving in the opposite direction, at least. When her sight returned to the photographer, Max’s jaw was stuck hanging with anxiety all over her countenance. Chloe felt the anxiety jump host as her grip on the steering wheel weakened. What could Aubrey have sent that was so haunting? Were their friends alright? “Max! What’s going on?”

“Give me a sec,” Max said to Chloe, who finally pulled into the parking lot for Crestfall and found their favorite parking spot. A cleaning van that came around occasionally was in the one right next to theirs, so as Chloe put the truck in park and turned the key in the ignition, she gave the van and the parking lot a brief examination just to be sure. Max was typing away on her phone, unaware that Chloe was still waiting on her reply.

“Second given,” Chloe quipped, annoyed. “Max, what is it?” Max shot her an impatient glare and then Chloe shrugged her off, choosing instead to lean one arm against the door and wait on Max to fill her in. _I should be used to this, right?_

“I gotta figure this out on my own,” Max said to Aubrey, putting the phone back up to her ear. On the other end of the line, Chloe could just hear Aubrey’s protestation. “Trust me, we’ll both see you soon. So will Steph.” After hanging up, Max’s hands had already gone to work undoing her seatbelt. Suddenly, Chloe thought she appeared tired and worn out. _Well, this is Max Caulfield, time cop_

“Tell me what the fuck just happened now, please?” pressed Chloe. Turning to face her, Max’s eyes were huge and dilated, her nose once again had a small stream of blood. Chloe knew what that meant in an instant and sat up straight. “You rewound?” The time traveller started stumbling over her words, her initial sentence confusing and slightly incongruent. “Max! Are we in danger?”

“There’s going to be somebody waiting outside of the apartment, and it’s going to freak you out,” she said, reaching out to rest her hand on Chloe’s. “But you have to trust me.”

“Who is it?” The time traveller hesitated, and Chloe felt her hand begin to pull away. “Who did you bring to our _home_ , Max?” She had a bad feeling about where this was going.

“Chloe,” Max paused, furrowing her brows and quickly packing her camera back into the bag. “You wanted answers, so I asked somebody to come by. Promise me you won’t get upset.”

“I’m already upset!” Chloe rose her voice. “Just tell me so I can stop panicking?”

“Detective Southgate,” Max muttered in a whisper, lowering her head. Her first thoughts were that of confusion; recalling an intense standoff in the middle of a destroyed city, Max convinced an unpredictable gun-toting investigator to help them take down Time Prick’s first minion. She hated it then, but the idea that Leanne Southgate was now, at their apartment and, at Max’s request, was insane to Chloe. In her head, it was like glass shattering. All the sneaking around conversation, the days Max was ‘out’ doing her sidegig photoshoots now came into question.

“Fuck, really?” Chloe said angrily, dropping her head to the steering wheel. “So THIS is what you’ve been hiding from me?” The punk began to shake her head slowly, peering over to see Max trying to speak, but with no words coming from her. “You’ve been working with Southdouche.”

“You would’ve stopped me,” Max said, undoing her seatbelt. Chloe’s hands balled into fists, the strawberry blonde shocked at her girlfriend’s certainty. Leanne Southdouche was what Chloe considered ‘David Madsen with a vagina’ and she had nearly gotten everyone killed trying to uncover the Time Prick plot.

“You’re goddamned right I would’ve!” shouted Chloe at the slowly shrinking Max. “What the fuck are you thinking, letting this psychopath near us again?” As quickly as Max had sunken back, she sat up straight and argued back.

“She’s here to help and we have bigger problems, okay?”

“No!” Chloe shouted. “Fuck that! You started lying again! You promised!” Regret washed across Max’s face while fury invaded Chloe’s, and the brunette in the passenger seat started to shake her head no.

“Chloe, please don’t be like that!” Instead of apologizing, Max pissed her off more and more. Chloe knew that she was about to tear into Max if she didn’t put some space between them, so she rushed to undo her seatbelt while Max kept trying to get her attention. Chloe opened the door to her truck, nearly hitting the cleaning van next to them as she jumped down onto the pavement. Slamming the door, the punk marched off towards the apartment breezeway, ignoring the mail boxes. Behind her, she heard Max shutting the door to the truck lightly as ever and then persistent footsteps catching up to Chloe. “Chloe, please wait!”

“Why?” Chloe came to a halt, resting her face as she turned and refused to look at Max. “What do you want me to say, Max? We’re obviously going to meet her and my opinion doesn’t fucking matter.”

“I didn’t mean to do this to you,” Max conceded.

“And yet you did,” added Chloe spitefully. “You just thought you knew better than me. Fuck!”

“You aren’t seeing the bigger picture, Chloe,” Max said hesitantly. Chloe’s eyes, previously staring off into space narrowed onto the brunette who looked ready to fall to the ground. _What did you just say to me?_

“Listen to yourself! What the fuck is wrong with you, Max? You thought you were gonna what, keep me in the dark while you go save the day all by yourself?” Before Chloe had even finished her exclamation, Max had stepped forward, her hands visibly shaking. Chloe took a step back, never having seen Max stand up to her like this before. When Chloe was about to ask for an answer, Max butted in.

“Yes,” Max exclaimed, moving in close so that she was glaring up at Chloe. “Because I can’t stand the thought of seeing you killed again!” _Again_. Chloe trembled and reluctantly yanked Max into a hug.

“That’s always what you say, Max! How many times are we going to go through this? And what happens when you get cornered, like last time? What about us, what about me? Jesus, Max. Do you even _care_ what happens to you or am I the only one?” Chloe buried her chin in the brunette’s hair until she felt Max’s chest finally compress. Her photographer whispered, once again, that she was sorry, but Chloe didn’t care. She wanted to be angry, she had a _right t_ o be angry, but she also wanted to hold Max until the end of times. Max’s excuse had worked in the past, but they had supposedly built that bridge. Here, she was pulling the support from underneath that foundation of trust. Letting go of her gradually, Chloe intertwined her fingers into Max’s and started to walk through the breezeway to their apartment. Max pulled at her to stop and Chloe pulled forward in retaliation. “Come on, Max. Gonna go see her, now.”

“No need,” an old familiar voice Chloe had never expected to hear in person again said, as the blonde-haired woman in a small compact trench coat and baseball cap rounded the corner. Blowing smoke from her lips, she indignantly raised the cigarette to the air and just stared at Chloe, as if judging her. Chloe kept her grip on Max’s hand and yanked her forward, pressing on.

“Hello, Southdouche,” greeted Chloe. “Kidnapped or killed anybody lately? Falsely accused them yet?” Southgate’s lip curled unsatisfactorily, flicking the lit cigarette from her hand to the pavement in front of Chloe.

“I’m not apologizing for something I haven’t done,” Southgate declared, peering past Chloe to the brunette behind her, resistance evident in their locked hands. At the same time, she was angered that the detective would try and go over her head to Max about this. The punk let out a laugh when Max finally broke free of her hand. Chloe briefly glanced back at her, watching Max frozen in indecision. _You brought her here. Might as well commit to this mistake now._

“Oh! My bad, was it ‘attempted’ kidnapping when you tried to take our friends? How’d you convince Max to let you in? Was it the Prescott?” The detective rolled her eyes and groaned, making room for Chloe and Max to walk past her.

“We don’t have time for this. Max has something to talk with me about,” said Detective Southgate. “And I her.”

“Too bad,” commented Chloe. “You’re talking to me, because you aren’t going near her.”

“For fuck sake, woman,” Southgate raised both of her hands to chest-level, expressing annoyance. “Your girlfriend came to me for help! Leave your petulant little soap opera out here!”

“Fuck you!” Chloe replied, scathing.

“Enough!” Max screamed, and Chloe spun around to see Max covering her forehead in frustration. “Both of you.” She could see Max had started tearing up again, reddened cheeks and trembling posture. The blood on her face had begun to dry. Seeing Max so vulnerable, and yet standing up bravely like this made Chloe’s insides churn. Max had never fought this hard when she was in the right, so why was she starting to do it now?

“Sorry,” Chloe said, even if she didn’t fully mean it. From behind, she heard the detective issue a sorry of her own. The punk turned, raising her brows and scrunching her forehead. “Woah.” _She apologized. I didn’t think she knew how to do that!_ The blonde in the baseball cap raised her cheeks and chuckled.

“You’re somethin’ else, kid.” Chloe couldn’t utter a reply because Max brushed past them both, up the stairs in the direction of their room. Chloe started to follow her, though not before raising her chin as she passed the equally defiant Southdouche. Even though Max had gotten to the door first, she didn’t have the key on her. As Chloe came up behind her, she gave her brunette a smug grin and dangled the keyring next to her. Max snatched it out of her hands, reminding the punk that they were still in a feud and unlocked the door.

Once inside, the first thing Chloe had done was grab her secret stash and then had gone to work rolling a joint on the coffee table. Southgate had seated herself at the dining table, with her hands folded and her head lowered as if she were meditating. Max had chosen to brew coffee, which Chloe had supposed would be necessary to get through the bullshit she was gonna have to sit through. This entire time, nobody had spoken to one another and Chloe had found that absolutely fine. After a few minutes of fiddling with the roll paper, she had a decent joint, ready for lighting. Feeling around inside of her jacket, though, the strawberry blonde realized she had misplaced her lighter. _That’s not like you, Price._

“You need a light,” she heard Southgate point out from across the room. Chloe scoffed, but the woman was right.

“ _Oh, please. I can’t live without my fix,_ ” Chloe said sarcastically, leaning her head back to see Southgate tossing over her lighter. Chloe caught it with ease, examining the old butane lighter as she lit the joint. Southgate had a modest taste, if she was to be judged by the silver butane with some insignia in a language Chloe didn’t recognize _. Maybe Spanish, Portuguese? Uhhh, French?_

“You know, I haven’t had a hit in years.” _How do you do, fellow kids_? Chloe inhaled after letting the heat establish, holding it in her lungs. When she blew it out, she smiled.

“Cool,” she replied, planning not to share any with the woman. Chloe heard a chair being pulled out and she looked to the kitchen to see Max sitting at the table, her hair a wreck and her face drained. She asked Chloe to join them at the table, and so the punk grabbed Southgate’s lighter, walking over to the table and plopping down in the seat. She placed the butane on the table, and Southgate returned it to the inside of her trench coat, finally removing her baseball cap at the same time. Facing one another, the detective and Chloe began to uncomfortably eye each other up. “You could always take a photo, we’ve got a camera handy. Add it to your abduction catalog.”

“I didn’t. Fucking. Abduct you,” articulated Southgate, when Chloe chuckled.

“Actually, Max, you think she’d get along with Je-”

“Chloe,” Max warned her. “Don’t.” Chloe thought about it and realized she had definitely been about to cross the line. She relaxed her breathing, inhaling more smoke from her joint and keeping it buried in her lungs. _After this, though… I have to say it._

“We need to talk about Ren Yesfir,” Max pushed through, finally setting the topic for the discussion. Chloe adjusted her seating, pressing against the back of the wooden chair.

“What’s up with Ren?” asked Chloe, trying to get attentive.

“Who is Yesfir?” inquired Southgate, joining Chloe in watching Max immediately draw her phone from her pocket and search through it for something. _Whatever Aubrey sent her_. Max took a heavy breath, and then sat the phone face-up on the table, with a picture on the display. Chloe recognized it as a picture from Ren’s social media feed, of a tattoo on her left shoulder. Chloe nodded, unsure where this was going.

“Is that what Aubrey sent you earlier?” Max tilted her head, confused either by Chloe’s intent or at Chloe’s wording.

“You really don’t see it?” Max asked, unsure in her speech.

“I see a tattoo of a raven, or some bird,” Chloe stated, studying it. Indeed, it looked very much like a crow. She still didn’t understand when she heard a curse escape the detective’s lips. _What’s going on?_

“I know what it is. Who is this person?” demanded Southgate. Max cleared her throat, as both the detective and Chloe awaited much needed clarity.

“It’s a tattoo of the _Three-Legged Crow_. The Yatagarasu, Chloe. Ren has a tattoo of the Yatagarasu.” Ren, who had just shown up and had become a part of Connor and Steph’s life, had a tattoo of the Yatagarasu? There was no way that could be a coincidence. Chloe felt a chill crawling up her spine as she looked to Southgate. Neither of them had anything snide to say, their faces stricken with ominous frowns.

“That’s fucked,” Chloe said. “No way.”

“And she disappeared the same night Connor did,” Max said. “She became friends with Connor around the same time we started to receive threatening calls.” _More than friends, Max. She could’ve been manipulating him._

“That’s bad,” Southgate said, tensely. “Extremely bad. We have to consider the possibility that your friend is in enemy hands until we find out otherwise. I implore you again, let me reach out to others who were in the task force.”

“Task force?” Chloe asked, curiously with folded arms. Max appeared opposed to the idea, staring down the detective with a sense of opposition.

“It’s a bit of a story,” Southgate said, offering a fake smile. “I’ll fill you in as soon as Max is finished.” While Southgate spoke, Chloe noticed Max leaning over the table to share Ren’s social media profile with the detective, who began to scratch at her chin. “Never seen her before but with the resources the target seems to get, suppose anyone can be recruited.” She paused, before rubbing her chin again. “At some point, we have to attack the target’s resource line.” Chloe couldn’t stand how much like David that Southgate truly was, but then again, this _wasn’t_ a game and lives _were_ at stake. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she could see why Max might consider working with a detective who understood things well enough. That still did nothing to soften the blow.

“What are you gonna do?” Chloe said to Max, feeling uneasy. Max stared away from Southgate and the phone, slowly dropping her gaze to the floor.

“I don’t know yet,” Max replied. “I could try rewinding back, if I find the photo for that day…” In an instant Chloe felt a rising fear in her gut and she looked to Southgate who appeared unfazed, like she hadn’t just heard the same thing the punk had heard.

“Max, uh,” Chloe said, thumbing towards the now-annoyed detective. “She’s right there.”

“I _am_ right here,” Southgate responded. Pulling her phone away from the detective, the time traveller sighed.

“She knows, Chloe.” The punk couldn’t believe it. “This is why I brought here here. To tell you everything.” _You told her your powers but you couldn’t tell me about this. What the fuck, man_.

“No arguments there,” Chloe let out a sigh of her own. “A bit too late, if you ask me.”

“Sorry,” Max muttered, looking away to her phone. Yes, Max had lied and Chloe was still very hurt by it, but the serious nature of _why_ she did it and what was going on had started to take precedent. Still, she couldn’t just let go of what Max had done, for the second time. Chloe remembered she had a joint in her hand and began to tend to it. She took a smaller hit this time, wishing to remain fairly coherent in case anything happened. She knew the detective wasn’t necessarily a danger, yet, but her instincts told her otherwise. Wringing out Max properly had to come later. As for right now, she thought she was pretty calm compared to earlier.

“So, there’s always the risk I could fuck something up by using my powers so much,” said Max, which was nothing new to Chloe. “But there’s some other things. It’s been harder lately.”

“What do you mean, harder?” Southgate asked inquisitively.

“Using it so much, I think I’m having some sort of exhaustion. So on top of breaking the fabric of reality, my body is working against me.”

“That’s hella bad,” Chloe said, thinking back on the weeks she’d been suspicious of Max. “Is that another reason why you’ve been so…”

“Off. Yes. I still don’t know how any of this works,” she admitted. “I’ve said it before, but I think these powers are like a muscle.”

“They can get stronger if you push your limits,” Southgate said, laying her head back against the wooden chair. Chloe thought only a psychopath could find such posture comfortable. “But like a muscle, it requires time to heal. So what did you do that knocked the wind out of you?”

“That’s the thing,” Max said, acting genuinely confused with herself. “The night Connor went missing, it happened.” _What? How does that work? How does any of this work?_ “But if I try to make huge time leaps, it hurts bad. Even after years of having the rewind, it’s like I know nothing at all about its capabilities.”

“What did you do for that to happen?” Chloe asked, trying to ascertain precisely why such a random occurrence would happen. Max immediately replied.

“I tried to rewind and talk to him the day of, used a couple of photos to jump back. All it did make me pass out.” Chloe had known it; Max was in worse shape than she wanted anyone to know about. Chloe looked away, on the brim of a breakdown. She didn’t know what feeling was appropriate anymore.

“Your friend disappeared approximately a week ago?” Southgate asked her and Max nodded with certainty. “It hurts you in what way, exactly?”

“I feel like somebody’s shoving an ice pick through my head, and my body locks up.” Max had to have been isolating herself to keep all of this hidden from Chloe. The punk wasn’t sure whether she’d be angry, sad, or simply depressed and disappointed by the end of this. What could she do about any of it except what she always did?

“Hmm,” Southgate frowned, perplexed. “I’ve made some progress, at least. Two discoveries.”

“Time prick,” grumbled Chloe, earning a glare from the detective who had likely misheard her.

“What?” she finally asked to Chloe, before Max intervened and told her to keep going. _Okay, time to slow down with the the weed_.

“I’ve uncovered a police report regarding Sera Gearhardt that narrows down a few locations,” revealed the detective. “It’s dated October of ‘15.” The punk’s heart skipped a beat hearing the name from Southgate. “There’s a papertrail for this woman, but it’s still a challenge. She knows how to remain elusive. Makes me think she’s hiding away intentionally.” _Yup, that sounds like her_ . Chloe recalled how Sera had begged and pleaded with her to lie to Rachel about her father, about Damon Merrick, about everything. The last argument she had had with Rachel was over that lie, which Sera had convinced Chloe that would give Rachel the one thing she hadn’t had growing up; a stable family, or at least some facade of it. That had been two weeks before Rachel had gone missing, the last thing she had believed about Chloe was that she had betrayed her. _And here I am, upset that Max has betrayed me. I was wrong to do that. So was Max._

“She is,” Chloe said enthusiastically. The blonde across from her shrugged, continuing.

“That skill’s either condemned or saved her. I’d hope the latter.” The punk grew slightly annoyed with what had to be artificial concern the detective showed for a woman she couldn't possibly know or understand. In spite of this, Chloe kept quiet. On the other hand, Max seemed entranced by Southgate’s info dump. It still felt shitty to know Max was trusting Southgate with a lot of sensitive info that she hadn’t given to Chloe. “This one, you’ll like,” the detective told Chloe, pulling her phone out.

“Try me,” remarked Chloe, relaxing her shoulders.

“Eliot Hampden’s your stalker, and you suspect he’s connected to the target.” Chloe hadn’t expected this, and so giving Max a dreary look, she scowled.

“You fucking told her about Eliot, too?”

“Calm yourself,” Southgate requested. “She was being thorough and wanted to be sure you were in no danger. Please don’t be angry with her.”

“Thanks,” Chloe said dismissively. “I’m so glad you’re my relationship counselor now.” The blonde’s curled lip returned, still none too happy with Chloe’s insolence. Max was silent, which was uncharacteristic for the brunette when Chloe was in rage mode. The punk replied with a smile, and the detective simply ignored her.

“Back on topic, I’ve got an IP address for Mr. Hampden. Gives a general idea for a physical location as of six months ago as well as a phone number. Give me time to verify my source, but he was last seen in Beaver Creek, Oregon. Once I verify whether he’s stuck around, you can decide how to proceed.” The detective shifted in her chair for reasons Chloe couldn’t discern. “From what Max has told me, the man seems dangerous.”

 _Disagree_. Chloe simply wasn’t afraid of him. In that moment, there wasn’t much that could scare the strawberry blonde as she brought the joint back to her lips and inhaled.

“Now,” the blonde detective reached into her trench coat and brought out a tiny notepad and pen. While opening to a fresh page, she looked to Max. “I need you to tell me everything you know about ‘Ren Yesfir’.”

An hour had passed since the meeting had started. In that time, Chloe had been impressed by Detective Southgate’s professionalism, though deep down the punk had started missing the older woman’s flair of attitude. Max had shared the story as they knew it, about Ren, Connor, and Steph; how they had met, how little information the dark-haired enigma shared with the group, and the tattoo again. The detective had touched base on everything, including the possibility that Connor’s potential kidnapper could have powers of her own. A year and some change ago that idea would’ve been insane for Chloe to believe but now, it was a grim idea. Chloe still thought Steph was a better detective, though. That wasn’t changing.

On the subject of Steph, Max had also clarified that their old friend was flying over soon. She suspected Aubrey had had something to do with that, but then Max had also dropped the fact that Hyram was actually linking up to help them find Connor. She hadn’t thought about it, but Chloe had been missing Hyram’s anti-charisma lately.

Then came the ‘task force’ talk. It confirmed suspicions she had harbored long ago about Southgate and the now-deceased Wright. They were like secret government agents, there were others in the world like Max and Connor. She imagined how much trouble they could all make if put together, or what horrors an organization might get up to having a registry of powered people. It was a good thing Chloe was already high, because such talk would’ve chilled her to the bone had she been sober.

Once everything seemed to be in order, the detective stepped out for a smoke break. For Chloe, who had been smoking the entire time, the notion was amusing. Left alone with a girlfriend she was still severely disappointed in, Chloe was in no hurry to break the tension or the ice. She noticed that Max hadn’t even made a cup of coffee, despite the smell of it in the air. Keeping to herself, Chloe mindlessly scrolled through her newsfeed, where images of grunge fashion and cats saved her from discussion.

“Can we talk about this?” Chloe blinked, keeping her eyes on her phone. _Don’t make me do this now._

“We’ve been doing that, for like an hour,” Chloe answered her, glancing away from her screen to the brunette at the head of the table. “Max, after everything I’ve done for you, this was pretty fucking shitty. I’m gonna be pissed off with you for a while. We made a promise to each other that this wouldn’t happen again. The ‘right reasons’ argument is bullshit at this point. We’re a team!” Dropping the phone onto the table, Chloe gave her attention to Max. “Aren’t we?” The response given wasn’t what Chloe was looking for as Max grimaced and looked away. Chloe gripped the edge of the table in irritation, having no clue what was going through her photographer’s head. “ _Aren’t we_?”

“Of course we are,” Max stated, her eyes becoming empty of emotion as she stared at the punk. “And Time Prick’s gonna use that against me.” Nobody wanted to have Max safe more than Chloe did, but that fact was obscured by the face of a broken woman with bags under her eyes and godlike responsibility. Remembering that neither she nor Connor were superheroes was not easy for Chloe, but she realized that Max was right. The punk rose from her seat, dragging it over to sit by Max. The brunette turned to face Chloe as she returned to the seat and Chloe wrapped her arms across Max’s shoulders.

“He was going to come after me no matter what you did, Max. He still could go for your parents, my living relatives, Connor’s friends and his family. I’m right here, right now, and you fucking made a decision for me instead of asking me.”

“I did,” Max said, staring down at the table. “I thought I was better equipped to handle this.”

“On top of that, you didn't trust me. What the hell are we if not that, at least? You’re my best friend, my girlfriend. I have no one left. You’ve put me in a really uncomfortable situation.”

“And there is no excuse at the end of it all, is there?” Max said. “Just me, slowly spiralling down a hole.”

“This isn’t just about you, Max,” Chloe told her, but the time traveller was worryingly right; even now, Chloe didn’t think Max realized just how close she was to being gone. “What you did is something I did to Rachel. I never told her what happened at the mill because I made a decision that I thought would be the best thing possible for her. I wanted her to have a family, not the bullshit I had to go through losing dad. I fucked up, thinking I knew what was right for Rachel and she found out. Then she died as far away from me as fucking possible.”

“You’ve never told me that before,” Max said, looking up at the strawberry blonde beside her. “That sounds terrible.”

“It’s what you’ve been doing. You need to knock it off before it’s too late.” Chloe felt Max tense under her embrace, and the punk hadn’t realized the words that left her mouth before it was too late; if that was anything, it was a final warning she had unconsciously delivered. “But no matter how pissed off I am with you, I will _die_ before Time Prick can get his hands on you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, honey.” Max sank into Chloe’s embrace, her head finding purchase on the taller woman’s right shoulder. It was going to take some time to repair her trust in Max, if it was possible. She imagined the irony that this new Rachel would feel seeing this situation unfold. Then again, what if another Chloe hadn’t lied to this Rachel—

The tears finally ran as the hurt manifested. It had always been true, and maybe she had chosen to ignore the fact, but the truth about her Max finally dawned on her. _This isn’t the Max I ran away from Arcadia Bay with._ This Max had virtually identical history with Chloe, but she had been three years mature in a relationship with another Chloe virtually identical to her. The Max that had been letting her down, the woman she had slept with for the past year, wasn’t the same Max that had saved her life from Nathan Prescott. She had a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you hear the one about me being a punk?  
> Did you hear the one about me, being a drunk?  
> So did you hear the one about me losing my nerve?  
> Or how I'm just another fucking sheep in the herd?  
> Did you hear about the money, how it made me change?  
> So funny to me, all the time that they waste!  
> Did you hear the one about me, giving a shit?  
> Cause if I ever did, I don't remember it!


	11. Guile

#  **Chapter Ten: Guile**

**_Sunday, May 15th 2016, 8:17AM_ **

Yawning, Max wished she had fetched her pair of sunglasses before leaving the apartment. The short brunette’s eyes shouldn’t have felt so heavy, yet she felt like she hadn’t slept more than an hour despite a healthy eight. To her left, Chloe sat upright in the driver’s seat with her hands on the wheel, driving them to their morning plans.

“Shut up,” Chloe said fast, before starting to yawn herself. She looked away from the road to shot Max an amused glance before returning to the highway ahead. “See? It’s contagious.” After last night, getting anything positive out of Chloe was warming to Max. The bright sun had edged around the indent on the truck’s dashboard as they passed underneath the large green directional signs, giving Max at least one angle where she didn’t have to squint. Until now, the two girls had peacefully minded their own business, which wasn’t a horrible thought. No amount of calm or peace would erase last night. They were on the way to meet up with Steph and Hyram, who were picked up by Aubrey at the airport about thirty minutes ago, and Max couldn’t be any less content. It should’ve been exciting, but all the time traveler could worry about was her relationship with Chloe. She didn’t know how close to collapse it really was, but she definitely felt like she deserved worse. Chloe had hinted at it, but Max knew last night’s closing discussion had been a prelude to the inevitable ‘talk’.

Forcibly shaking her head, Max glanced over to her girlfriend; Chloe had thrown together an amalgamation of her navy-blue work shirt and pants, classic leather jacket and boots. What shined beyond all of that was impulsive, last minute decision to dye her hair. Max had tried to object, concerned with the strawberry blonde’s dress code at work, but it had been much too late for that. Chloe removed a hand from the steering wheel as she merged into another lane to brush her dark blue hair out of her face, with isolated strands of red and yellow mixed in. To Max, it had resembled the colors of a phoenix, which was what Chloe had been aiming for. She wanted to feel “reborn”.  _ That would sound inspiring any other night. Now it just makes me want to sink into this seat and hide my face. _

Since then, the two had barely talked. Once Detective Southgate had left, it had been dinner without conversation and then an early bed. It didn’t feel right trying to pester Chloe for affection so Max had chosen of her own volition to sleep on the couch for the night. This had elicited some ministration in the form of pillow and blanket from Chloe, who Max had guessed wanted her to at least be comfortable for the night.  _ Old habits die hard for BFFs _ . Max could tell even as the bluenette drove them to their destination that Chloe was trying not to put her foot in her mouth any time Max said or did something.

Chloe’s eyes were straight ahead, and she had sunken into the corner meeting the seat with the driver’s side. Max hated seeing that sort of aversion in her girlfriend, but she was trying to play it cool herself. It was one of those times when she wanted to say a million things, but not a single one would carry the weight needed to make up for what she had done. Max had lowered her head, catching Chloe trying to sneak glances of her own at the brunette. 

“I can’t believe we’re about to chill with the Legendary Steph Pendragon again,” Chloe said, her mood observably lifted, tapping on the steering wheel with a hopeful grin. “And I guess Hyram’s gonna be a sight for sore eyes.”

“You and him had a lot in common, you know,” Max reminded her of the young man who often said things on impulse. Chloe opened her mouth, but then grunted instead of replying. _Yeah, you know I’m right._ _The Chloe Price of Blackwell Academy was so that._

“We both know that boy couldn’t talk his way out of anything. No finesse,” Chloe remarked, seeing Max’s grin settling. “Plus, you  _ and  _ Aubrey loved me. What did he ever get?”

“You were actually pretty serious back then,” Max reminded her. “Well, it was part of the plan, getting him to trust us…” As soon as it left her mouth, the brunette realized such thought could bring the memory of Max and her large time leap back to the surface and regretted it. Just like that, a tender moment when Chloe had seemed to be in better spirits was gone.  _ Why do I suck so much? _

“Can you check the GPS for me?” Chloe requested, pulling them into the right lane between a Civic and an Accord. Up above, another green sign flew by and the bluenette reached over to nudge Max. “Right now, please.” 

“On it,” Max promised, levelling her phone up to the dashboard after a second or two of hesitation. Swiping up on her lock screen where Chloe had posed for her on the backdrop of the sunrise, Max saw two text messages from Tobias and Fernando. Max thought they were both such great friends, always there when she needed them. Fernando had done his usual thing involving good memories while Tobias tried cutting straight to the point: what she was scared of, what made her sad. She wished so bad she could answer those questions for him and hear a fresh perspective.

“It’s um,” pulling up a grid-view of Los Angeles, Max saw the blue streak showing how much farther to their destination. They were in Westchester, an area she wasn’t familiar at all with. The appropriate exit was La Tijera, coming up very soon. “La Tijera boulevard.”

“The next one,” remarked Chloe dryly. “Good thing you checked.” Within minutes, they were driving up the ramped hill, leaving behind the highway. Behind the traffic lights ahead of them stood a gas station merged with some fast food joint. What left Max with a strange feeling of normalcy was the usual LA traffic, claustrophobic and all-encompassing. She rested back in the truck’s seat, staring out the window at cracked pavement being overtaken by the grass adjacent to it.  _ Even if we fail the planet would be fine in the end, wouldn’t it _ ?

“Now we just gotta find Manchester and we’ll be there,” Chloe stated. Max nodded, still wondering about the concrete jungle outside of the truck. They were almost there. Her mood was something between uncertain and receptive, though she was still looking forward to sitting down with the gang and catching up. What mattered the most was the fact that they were about to put Steph through the initiation; to convince her that Max and Connor have impossible powers and they were in some kind of cold war with people trying to end the world. Even the detective had given Max a nudge to fill the digital design artist in on the happenings, as Steph had been nearly collateral damage for whatever had gone down between Connor and Time Prick. 

That was before Southgate had departed, following up a lead on Eliot Hampden. Max thought about Connor then, and her throat suddenly felt tight. They’d heard nothing still, neither from Connor nor his kidnapper. There was so much happening, so much that could go wrong that all Max could picture in her head was nothing but darkness. She closed her eyes, joining with the darkness in her head, hoping it would all be over soon.

After a missed left and a u-turn, Chloe and Max parked in a designated curbside spot in front of what the bluenette called the ‘sketchiest IHOP ever’. Max shut the door to the rustbucket, staring down at her low-top sneakers on the sidewalk. Between this intimidating building and the one across the street, they’d finally found refuge from the morning sun. Indeed, with a tiny ‘IHOP’ sign to the right and the rest of the bare wall covered in dark splotches, as if this restaurant had torn the flesh off of whatever business once resided here, it truly was sketchy.

“Hey, Old Faithful.” Seeing her beautiful woman on the other side of the hood, she realized Chloe was giving her surroundings an examination too. She seemed excited by something just out of view of their current location, likely at the parking lot behind the IHOP. Chloe scoffed, turning to give Max a grin. She was thinking of a nickname to one-up Max, for sure.

“They’ve got a Subway over there,” Chloe said, rubbing her tummy. Max was almost disappointed she couldn’t come up with something to match or beat ‘Old Faithful’. “They better get here fast or I’m gonna eat this whole place.”

“A sub sounds delicious right now,” Max eagerly replied as Chloe began to walk around the front of the brown faded truck. She noticed a sudden twinge of sadness wash across the punk’s face, as if new thoughts put pause to their jokes.

“Hope I can stay long enough,” Chloe said. “Work might burn down if I’m not there, you know.” Max sighed. Having to wake up early to balance the meeting with their companions on such short notice was no easy task for the woman who hated mornings. Chloe wasn’t accustomed to working Sundays all that often but according to the bluenette, her performance was still under a microscope thanks to Eliot’s little duffle bag stunt. Neither one of them could afford for Chloe to lose her job. 

When the punk finally came around to Max’s side of the truck, her boots stomping on the pavement as she went from the road to the sidewalk with cars rushing by behind her, Max held out her arm out of instinct. There was hesitation from them both, Max unsure whether to retract her arm and Chloe contemplating the idea of locking their arms together. The bluenette shook her head no, mouthing the words of apology as Max let her arm drop to her side. The tint of sorrow on Chloe’s countenance stuck around.  _ What did you think was gonna happen, idiot?  _

Once inside, Max and Chloe took a seat in the back corner of the restaurant. As it turned out, this place wasn’t particularly busy, which kept the atmosphere inside calm. The photographer ordered a glass of water while the punk went straight for coffee and sugar. It was nice to see some of her habits rubbing off on the taller woman, though Chloe was still terrible at ordering her own coffee in public. While Chloe chose to hold off on ordering food until Aubrey and co arrived, which would be around ten or so minutes from now, Max dove straight into asking for Belgian waffles. It made Chloe smile at least, but Max  _ was _ craving them badly.

While it wasn’t terribly awkward, the two didn’t really say much. Chloe seemed to play with her sugar packets, staring down at the table as she guided the unopened containers with her fingers. Instead of dwell on it, Max let her mind wander, along with her eyes. Crawling along the slanted roof of the dining room was giant metal scaffolding with the bright LA sky shining through the windows across the building. It made the short brunette think back to the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, a place she’d seen once when very little on a trip with Mom and Dad. Everything had been so much easier back then, and Max had often found herself thinking back on simpler times lately. Listening to the low sound of other tables discussing their business for the morning coupled with the smell of bacon fried up somewhere in the restaurant, Max slowly turned to stare at the taller woman seated facing her, Chloe’s eyes currently buried in her cell phone on the table.

“How are you feeling, Agent Price?” Max teased, watching Chloe’s lips quirk slightly while her brow and eyes remained perfectly still, her fingers texting away on the phone screen.

“Feeling better. You?” replied Chloe shortly, though not quite in a bad mood. Max could handle this.

“I don’t know,” Max replied earnestly. “There’s a lot to be nervous over.”

“Got that right,” Chloe said, sliding her phone off of the table and giving Max her undivided attention. In the moment, Max felt the bluenette’s equally blue eyes warming her up. Chloe smirked and placed both arms behind her head, leaning back on the booth. “You don’t look so nervous right now, Agent Caulfield.”

“Stop that,” Max chuckled, realizing her cheeks were blushing. “I’m talking about Steph. I’ve only met her once before.” It was fair to say that even under the circumstances, Max was excited enough to be anxious over Steph’s arrival. Chloe scoffed, her smirk becoming even tighter.

“You’re in for a  _ treat _ ,” Chloe said, rolling her head as she sank farther into the booth. There was also something that had been nagging the time traveler for some time as things had deteriorated. It wasn’t something she could just go to Steph about, but….

“She knew Rachel well, didn’t she?” Max asked, watching the smirk on Chloe’s face contort into a winceful frown.

“Bad time to bring that up,” Chloe warned her, eyes closed.  _ Good job again, dumbass. _

“Sorry,” Max inserted, though she knew it was too late. Chloe couldn’t see how uncomfortable the shorter brunette was, but surely she could feel it in Max’s voice.

“Yeah,” replied Chloe.

They shared the booth in silence, Max no longer brave enough to speak first. The punk began playing with her phone again while the photographer observed the restaurant around her, noting the rich, poor, people in the middle of that and those she wasn’t sure, all sharing the same space for food. All things considered, this IHOP was a melting pot of Californian diversity.

In a reasonable time, Max’s Belgian waffles were delivered on a large plate and as Max began to saturate them in syrup, Chloe began hovering close to the edge of the table. She wasn’t quite as upbeat as before, but Max could tell Chloe was trying not to beg like a hungry puppy. Before she could even touch the browned treats, they both heard a group of people coming through the front of the building. At first glance, it appeared to be a party of six men who looked like they had been working on construction all night long, still in dirtied uniforms and name tags present. Then, someone whose voice she recognized came through behind the construction workers. 

The calculated greeting from Aubrey Snyders followed up with the casual one from Hyram Auteberry, two people who Max hadn’t seen together in a long while were followed by Steph Gingrich asking where they were at. Chloe perked up excitedly, staring over the glass adorning the top of the wall their booth was built into. Max was trying to catch a glance, too. After all, ignoring the supernatural aspect of things, this was gonna be a lot of fun.  _ I hope Steph forgives us for what we’re gonna do, though. _

Next they heard the digital design artist thanking the hostess. That flair of charisma put into that customer service response sounded just like Steph, who Max heard had become quite the saleswoman, pitching her own talents to others. Chloe said she was proud of the woman Steph had turned out to be, and Max had to be honest about her jealousy. Not of Chloe’s adoration for Steph, but the ability to chase her dreams. Would she be able to get that back on track ever again? 

Chloe sat back down, exchanging a glance with Max. She could see the punk breathing through her nostrils, as if the anticipation was too much for the bluenette to handle. Around the corner, Max caught a flash of color and turned to see Hyram leading the group. The boy’s dark dreadlocks were the same as always, wearing a bright yellow flannel with jeans. He definitely had his own style, and no doubt Aubrey had had some hand in it. Hyram cracked a crooked smile upon seeing Max and Chloe and Max waved back quaintly.

Beside him was Aubrey, wearing a light blue shirt with thin white trimming that would’ve exposed her midriff had she not been wearing a dark undershirt. In her beach blonde hair was a white bow tie to compliment the rest of her outfit, which Max had to admit, was too cute. Aubrey saw them and smiled, though she seemed reserved, unrelaxed. Max had a hunch as to why Aubrey had put so much effort into her look for today as the final person came into view.

There came the star attraction as Chloe would put it: Steph Gingrich, the auburn-haired geek who had befriended Max’s girlfriend during the Blackwell years. With Steph wearing a solid green T-shirt with the faded gray beanie she always had on with the fireball emblem, Max noticed the dragon necklace wasn’t wrapped around her neck. It felt a bit off considering nearly every photo of her online had the woman wearing it. Steph had a huge smile on her face the instant she laid eyes upon them. Max noticed Chloe’s own smile had grown three sizes that moment, the bluenette still kicked back in the booth with her arms folded. As soon as Steph was within jumping distance from the table, Chloe was out of the seat and leaping to hug her. Steph scooped Chloe into a hug and told Max to ‘get in here’. 

Max scooted out of her seat, but not before Chloe grabbed her by the arm and yanked into the three-way embrace. It had startled the shorter brunette before she felt two different arms wrapped around her shoulders. It felt nice to have closeness from both of them and it almost made her forget that she and Chloe were feuding. After a warm moment, Steph let go of them both. Aubrey held out her arms to Max, and she hugged the beach blonde next. Vice versa, after her hug with Max, Aubrey offered the same to Chloe who took it without hesitation. As they settled down, Hyram slid into the booth where Max had sat, tossing finger-guns towards the ecstatic Chloe who replied in the same fashion.

“Hey man,” Chloe greeted Hyram. “Are you a doctor yet?” The young man yawned, rubbing at his eyes before answering. 

“Workin’ on it,” he said with suave. Chloe nodded, sarcasm on the tip of her tongue. Hyram then passed over the camerabag that Max never left home without and Chloe placed it at their feet under the table.

“Speaking of workin’ on it, when did you start dying your hair again?” Steph asked her and Max could just see how the two girls fit so well as friends. They had spared no time talking like they hadn’t been a couple thousand miles apart. It reminded Max of her own friendship with Chloe.

“It’s nice to see the old her back,” Aubrey remarked, grasping both of her hands together. Chloe ran two fingers through her hair, snickering while staring away from the two girls.

“Why thank you, fair maidens,” she preened. “Aubrey, we gotta talk about it.” Aubrey froze, her eyes becoming wide and terrified. Before she could ask what Chloe meant, Max saw Steph take Aubrey by the hand and pull the beach blonde’s shoulder into her own.

“You look adorable,” Steph told poor Aubrey, adjusting the tie in her hair to be even with her outfit. The poor girl had began to cover her face with her free hand. Max couldn’t help but smile at it, noticing Chloe’s proud and smug grin at giving them the moment. Hyram, on the other hand, seemed a little surprised.  _ It wasn’t possible he hadn’t known, was it? _ This was their first time meeting in the flesh, despite whatever long distance relationship they had initiated and as far as Max recalled, Aubrey’s dive into girls was still shaky and uncharted. She hoped the best for them, as they were seemingly taking it slow. Their friend had also been kidnapped and that was likely one internalized fear they were coping with. Aubrey probably needed that affection more now than ever.

“Hair’s ‘aight,” Hyram piped up, adjusting his shirt collar. Chloe placed the back of her hand onto her forehead, feigning disappointment with the doctor-in-training.

“Don’t kill my buzz,” she said, as Aubrey interjected.

“Ignore him, it’s an easy skill to acquire.” As the beach blonde spoke, Max observed Steph ever so slightly turning to devote her attention to Aubrey every time she spoke.  _ This is so cute. I didn’t realize they’d be fitting together like puzzle pieces! _ They all began to settle into the booth, Chloe taking the corner of the side she had previously sat. Max went down right beside her, as Hyram gave his spot up for the fresh lovebirds and took a chair dragged over from a nearby table.

“Cut me some slack,” Hyram told them as he finally sat down. “ I’m just sleepy.” With a small whistle, he rubbed the back of his head. “No offense to you girls but,” he turned his attention to Max and Chloe, “that journalist dude and Steph kept me awake the  _ entire _ flight.”

“As if,” Steph whined. Hyram leaned in on the table, shooting everyone an inflated frown. 

“Imagine if I talked to you about pharmaceutical crap for three hours with a random stranger right behind you on the plane. That was them, but with some campaign he had come up with.” This time, it was Aubrey’s turn to say ‘ignore him’. Hyram shook his head with rolling eyes. “Hey, I’m just saying. Next time, marry the dude already.”

“Oh, but it’s just so hard to get him out of your head once he starts,” Chloe spoke over Hyram, earning at least a snicker from Steph. To this, Hyram looked straight at Max, giving her a pretentious yet almost child-like frown.

“Someone has to be on my side here, riiight Max?” Max put a finger to her lips with an inquisitive look, trying to give off the appearance that she was in thought. It was hard to hide the comical grin she wore. 

“I guess you do need an advocate at the table. You’re rather outnumbered.”

As time rolled by and the food was delivered to the table, Max caught up with the happenings of her friends; it was very clear that despite their reunion Connor’s disappearance haunted the conversation. At the end of the day, they had come to California for a game plan that involved finding Ren, Connor, and maybe Eliot and the Yatagarasu. This had interrupted Steph’s life in Florida, and Max wasn’t sure why Hyram agreed to come so quickly. As far as she knew, the dreadlocked boy was particularly poor and needed to keep his academic record strong.

Whatever they figured out had to keep that in mind. Even as they talked and ate, Max couldn’t shake that permeating fear regarding her powers. There was always the chance that they could start acting up, and considering the confined space of the restaurant, she had no way to defend them all if someone walked through that front door with a gun.

Max jolted slightly, feeling a delicate pat from Chloe patting her on the side of her thigh. _ So everyone noticed I spaced. Yeah. _ The time traveler stared down at the table, taking in the sight of Chloe’s half-eaten bacon and eggs and Aubrey’s home-style beef hash browns. To think she had actually eaten all of her waffles and Chloe hadn’t mentioned how peculiar that had been was peculiar in and of itself. _ Did I even eat yesterday? _

Chloe continued to pat Max on the leg for a few moments, nudging her once she realized Max was staring. Even now as upset as Chloe was from last night, the bluenette still watched over Max. The photographer knew she had to make this up to the punk in every way possible. There would never be a replacement for Chloe Price.

Max turned back to the conversation at the table which had derailed so much that they were discussing loud music styles with heavy bass and drums. It wasn’t something she could necessarily contribute to but knew Chloe had plenty of expertise in that field. The two girls in front of her and Chloe had scooted closer together during the conversation and the instant Aubrey’s eyes began to wander around the restaurant sadly, Steph hit her with a question that Max had been waiting for.

“So how long do you get to hide me in your dorm, Aub?” asked Steph, reeling Aubrey right back in to the conversation. It was clear in the moment that Aubrey was flustered and stammered. She was smiling, trying to come up with a witty response but as Max came to realize fast, the beach blonde was no match for Steph as she was for Hyram and Connor. Chloe put her elbows on the table, resting her chin and fluttering her eyelashes at the two. Max had to suppress a chuckle as Hyram once again looked on in confusion. _ He really doesn’t know! _ Then, as nonchalantly as the digital artist could manage, Steph threw her arm right across Aubrey’s shoulders. Aubrey simply held the tight smile, trying to play off her reddened cheeks.

“What?” Hyram finally burst out, jaw-dropped and brows risen. 

“Will you two just fuck already?” Chloe nearly shouted. Nearly unanimous with Hyram and Steph, Max cursed Chloe’s name as the table behind them started to turn.

They nearly finished the table full of food after twenty more minutes. This time it was Hyram who ran a conversation with Max and all things considered, he had had an interesting year. Really focusing on his studies had apparently paid off and he was getting along with his siblings. Something that stood out was how much quieter the boy had become. Max wouldn’t have considered herself a judgy person, but she knew how Chloe and Aubrey had felt about Hyram in the past. He had his moments where someone would ask what the hell he was thinking when he spoke. According to Chloe, he had also been through some shit with his family that the bluenette related to hardcore. Max figured that had been how he and Chloe had bonded, both having lost parents in accidents. As for Chloe, she had been engaging the two girls which was a little difficult considering Max’s conversation with Hyram had to cross over theirs.

“So uh,” Hyram said, clearing his throat. The three girls dropped their mundane discussion, gradually giving him their attention. “Catching up’s been nice but I think it’s time we talk about the big ole’ elephant in the room.” There was silence at the table, leaving only discussion from the patrons of the restaurant to fill the quiet between them. Max knew Connor hadn’t been handling their distanced friendship well, so it was understandable Hyram would want to get on with it. What she wasn’t sure of was just how much he knew to start with. It was conceivable Aubrey had gotten him up to speed on Ren and the tattoo, but with how sudden the flights had been, Max had had no convenient time to bring it up yet.

“It needs to happen,” Aubrey admitted, dropping her chin. “I just don’t know how to start.” That was a good summarization because Max had no idea how to proceed either. Though, within a few seconds, she saw the digital artist’s tightened expression. Steph had gone from relaxed to stern in an instant.

“We can start with the obvious,” Chloe said, choosing her words carefully. “Connor and Ren ran off.”

“Let’s stop talking like he’s just somebody who _ ran off _ , first off,” Steph stated flatly. Chloe sat up straight, hearing Steph’s bullish request. Max saw Hyram retract from the table, slightly leaning towards Chloe and away from Steph her sudden brazen behavior intimidated the young man. Beside Steph, Aubrey exchanged the worried glance with Max.  _ This is so far from comfortable. _

“Okay,” Aubrey replied, turning slightly in the booth. “He didn’t just run off. It was life or death. He ran for his life.”

“And after that, I get a phone call from that detective friend of yours, a credit card number, and then a plane ride over to California?” Steph shrugged almost derisively. There  _ had been _ no questions asked considering Southgate had just made a call and procured the money like that “Not to mention, I know what I saw. My eyes saw it, and yet my brain’s still trying to tell me I somehow saw something else entirely.” Staring at each and every one of them, the digital artist chuckled harshly. “And for some reason, you’re all acting like you already  _ knew _ about all of this.”

“Shit,” Max cursed under her breath. The short brunette knew Steph was smart and this confrontation had been inevitable from the start of this last-minute gathering, but that didn’t make it any easier on the group. They were about to flip her world upside down in ways unimaginable.

“What I know is that two men tried to take us at gunpoint. I watched Connor,” she paused, gritting her teeth. “ _ Electrocute  _ one of them just by pointing his baton, like a wand. Any other day, I’d assume it was some kind of taser, even though Connor _ told  _ me it was a nightstick, but then it knocked  _ half  _ the city’s power out. And  _ then _ he just fled, left me there.” Max peered around the table, realizing nobody had a word to say. For the time traveler, discussing paranormal events in public was becoming too common a thing. “If that isn’t weird enough, let’s talk about Ren Yesfir! I could talk about her being fishy from the night I watched her drop a guy with a knife in literal seconds. Now she’s vanished too!”

“Right,” Chloe said carefully, taking the lead for the response. “We’re going to explain everything, Steph. But it’s going to be a lot to swallow all at once.”

“You’re acting like I’m a child, Chloe. Explain everything?” Steph mocked her, incredulously. “You’re going to tell me I’m not insane, right? Like, these dots I want to connect aren’t all made up in my head?” There was apprehension in Chloe’s blue eyes. The punk clearly hadn’t expected Steph to initiate this. They had planned on a demonstration back at the apartment to explain everything, but now they had been put on the spot.  _ You can only keep the wool over Steph’s eyes for so long, I suppose _ . Max took in a deep breath, everyone at the table instantly turning to stare at her. 

“Okay guys,” Max said tersely. “No pressure or anything.” She thought about where to start. Was it appropriate to try with Arcadia Bay or to stick with the return to the town a year ago? How easily could she explain the concept of rewinding to someone who’d never even experienced its effects?

“You want it straight?” Max hadn’t even tried to get the first word out before the woman beside her began. “That’s fair, Steph. Max and Connor have superpowers,” Chloe said boisterously. All eyes turned on the bluenette, who looked collected and in control of the situation compared to the auburn-haired woman who had started looking a bit paler than even Chloe herself. Max felt the muscles in her arms tighten and it was like her gut had dropped into an abyss. Steph’s eyes were intense and her body language revealed the woman’s innate uncertainty. “And here’s the kicker,” drawled Chloe, allowing herself a smirk at the woman staring back with giant eyes. “There’s someone else with powers trying to hurt them along with us. They’re trying to rule the world, or some bullshit like that.”

“I… I know you wouldn’t lie to me, but I don’t know what to say here,” Steph managed, individually staring at Max and each of her friends as if they were joking. Hyram had shielded his face by leaning down on the table with his forearm up while Aubrey just looked down at her hands out of view under the table.

“Say you understand,” Chloe demanded, nodding her head as she spoke.

“I’d be lying,” Steph replied.

“Steph, we have a lot to talk about,” Max finally spoke but as she opened her mouth, Hyram jumped back into place, digging into the plate of food still left in front of him.

“God _ damn _ , this is a good cheese melt.”

The ride back to the apartment wasn’t as nerve-wracking for Max now that the beans had already been spilled. The plan was still the same; Max and Chloe were going to show instead of tell Steph how these abilities worked just as Max had once done for Chloe and their friends. Max still held something uncomfortable inside, though she wasn’t sure what it was as she sipped coffee from her red mug.  _ This is helping me feel better at least. Better get this over with. _ Chloe’s blue mug sat on the kitchen counter undisturbed, the punk having chosen to lean against the wall closest to the front door with her arms folded. The beach blonde and digital artist were seated at their dinner table, looking around the Caulfield-Price living quarters. Hyram had plopped down on the couch and hadn’t said a word either. Everyone was waiting on Max to start this and she knew it. Inhaling sharply, Max looked to the auburn-haired woman who was curiously studying her from the table.

“Okay, Max. Explain,” she requested. Max’s plan was solid enough, if not a little work-in-progressy. Max stood up from leaning against the counter, placing her mug down. Analyzing her like a scientist, Steph shrugged dismissively. Her furrowed brow and on-edge posture made Max even more nervous, because frankly she wasn’t sure how Steph actually thought of her. Now, she’d have to hurl this revelation at Steph.

“First, you need to stand up,” Chloe got her attention. The beach blonde, who had been minding herself, slowly looked up to Chloe who nodded. She then made eye contact with Hyram, who rolled his eyes and whistled from the couch. Then, Max saw Aubrey shiver as if remembering something spooky.

“I remember  _ my _ first time,” Hyram quipped.

“Yep, she’s doing it,” Aubrey said. This didn’t bode well with Steph as she shook her head, prompting Aubrey to lose her sudden streak of smugness. Despite that, Steph pushed her seat back, standing up fast and then turning to face Max.

“Okay,” Steph drawled, her eyes jumping to Chloe, smiling back at her from the wall she had propped up against. “What now?”

“Give Max something to hold onto,” Chloe directed her. Without a second thought Steph reached up, removed her beanie, and let even more of her hair fall down onto her shoulders. Max joined her at her side, still reading the woman’s mood as cautious. Then, hesitantly, Steph handed Max her gray beanie without a word. “Then, sit back down. That’s it.”

Steph did as directed, taking her seat back and scooting it into the table. To this, Max could only smile. These moments were always the most amusing as Chloe’s eyes jumped to Max, her lips quirking. Steph didn’t share the humor, almost impatiently shooting glances to everyone, perhaps thinking she was part of some inside joke. 

“Yeesh. This must be hella awkward for me every time, huh Max?” Chloe’s arms dropped to her side as she spoke.

“It’s a little funny,” Hyram admitted. “Never thought about what happens on this end.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steph shouted, irritated. Max knew it was time to wrap this up and rewind. She held out her hand, feeling for that invisible door that opened a new world. Steph’s protestation faded to background noise, blending with so many other noises, shapes, colors and hues on Max’s periphery. She felt the chair slide back across her floor, Steph’s presence next to her returning. Max then took hold of the back of the chair, releasing her hold on time and space only for a moment. The time traveler began to drag the chair from the table to the couch in front of Hyram, ignoring his surprise as he tried to figure out what Max was doing.

The tension building up in her head grew as she reached out, Steph’s beanie on hand and squeezed. Keeping her other hand firmly on the back of the chair, she started to rewind again. It felt like a bubble filled with water, expanding and becoming heavier by each passing second. As soon as Max released her grip on time, she felt like absolute shit. The pain wasn’t as severe as her worst moments, but it was there and she knew the second she relaxed, her adrenaline would kick off and she’d be grounded in an instant.  _ Why is it getting harder to use my powers? _

“Now, sit,” Chloe said to Steph from across the room. Just in time, Max opened her eyes to see Steph falling backwards onto the floor where the chair was supposed to have been. It was a harsh yet effective demonstration of Max’s time travelling powers. Aubrey jumped out of her seat, crouching to help the fallen artist and comically asking if Steph was okay.

“Son of a bitch!” Steph cursed, trying to tough through her surprise and embarrassment. Aubrey took Steph by the arm and slowly helped her to her feet, the auburn-haired girl frantically looking all around the kitchen. “Guys, what the fuck?”

“What?” started Aubrey before remembering Steph had no idea what just happened. “Look, I didn’t know Max was gonna do that.” Steph let go of her, looking down at her shaking hands. Max figured Steph had been staring straight at her before the rewind, meaning Steph was probably freaked out. 

“I totally did though,” Hyram said, smiling.

“That didn’t just happen!” The auburn-haired woman had started brushing herself off when the bluenette across the room scoffed. Max held back the smile it gave her. Steph had started dusting off her pant legs before scanning the floor around her. Max figured she was looking for the item in her hands as Steph then searched the table.

“Where’s my beanie?” Steph asked, checking with Aubrey to see if she for some reason had it.

“In the time traveler’s hands, Steph,” Hyram told her dryly. The digital artist finally locked onto the gray beanie in Max’s hands, then her eyes traveled up to Max’s. They were stuck in a gaze, the realization and potential disbelief taking hold of Steph. Her lips quivered and she exhaled. 

“No fucking way.” The cat was out of the bag, and the artist’s thick eyebrows were risen as high as they could go. Steph stared across the room at Max, who held the beanie into the air with a veritable expression of her own. Steph wanted to speak again, evidenced by the moving lips but she was in too much shock to speak. Hyram saved the moment, his knee-slapping bringing Max around to her left where he sat. “Max you just teleported!”

“Yes fucking way! We tried to warn you,” the joker on the couch reminded Steph as he cackled. “Max, you gotta take a pic of her face right now.” Max shook her head, noting that Chloe was no longer leaning against the blue wall but rather walking toward the table. Steph just slugged her shoulders, eyes now trailing the carpet and then the table where Aubrey had sat. As for the beach blonde woman standing there, she pulled out another chair and Steph helped herself down into it, like someone who had had the energy sapped right out of them.

“No, you really didn’t warn me,” the digital artist said. _ It’s hard to warn someone, if I’m honest _ . 

“I have the ability to rewind time,” Max explained as Steph only grimaced at the sound of it. “Yes, rewind. I grabbed the chair, dragged it across the apartment and then reset to the moment where you had originally sat down.”

“How does that work?” Steph asked her. Max couldn’t help but laugh at the question.

“I sort of reach out and just feel for it. Then, everything just goes in reverse around me. If I wasn’t holding this chair, it would’ve reset along with you.”

“So you didn’t teleport?” inquired the digital artist _. Actually, I guess I did _ . Max shook her head, letting it all sink in. Explaining her rewind had come natural, so maybe she wasn’t doing everything as wrong as she thought. The bluenette took one of the chairs and flipped it around, straddling the seat and leaning her forearms along the top of the chair. With a giant goofy grin, Chloe just stared at Steph, waiting for her to notice. 

“Yep. Not trying to brag or anything but my girlfriend is a superhero.” As if perfectly timed, the pain in Max’s skull began again like a deep reaching stab wound. Max reached for her head and suddenly felt her knees bending. It was getting worse every time.

“Um, I don’t feel so super or like a hero,” she said, sitting down in the chair now conspicuously placed in the middle of the living room. When opening her eyes, she saw Chloe had become withdrawn, looking away from the shorter brunette instead to Aubrey and Steph. Max couldn’t let her give her that much credit, but maybe it was once again poorly timed.

“How long have you had it?” asked Steph, contemplating the sudden bombshell.

“A few weeks after I started at Blackwell,” Max told her. In her head, she supposed it had been five or six years. _ No, that’s not right. Well, it  _ is _ , but not for them _ . In this timeline it had been three, give or take, since she had discovered her rewind.

“That’s not important,” Chloe said, drifting the subject away from Arcadia Bay. “What is important is that we’ve got more than Eliot running around harassing us.” Steph didn’t nod at Chloe, merely blankly meeting gazes with the bluenette. Chloe tilted her head and gave a comical half-smirk, letting Max know the punk was doubting Steph could be this shaken up. Max, on the other hand, had another concern to voice.

“No, Chloe. She needs to hear it.” _No more lies. No more._ Chloe straightened up and side-eyed the shorter brunette. “If you’re ready for that,” Chloe asserted. If they were gonna talk about this, Steph had to hear the truth about Arcadia Bay. 

“If you need a minute to process, just say so,” continued Max. “This is going to be a lot to take in.”

“I think she needs some water,” Aubrey declared as she rose from the table. Before she could turn to the sink, Steph placed a hand on her arm, nudging the beach blonde to sit back down.

“I think I need to be high, actually.” As soon as it left Steph’s mouth, Chloe’s eyes grew large and she sat up straight despite the chair facing the wrong way. 

“Girl, all you had to do was ask!” _ Damn it, Chloe. _ Max should’ve seen this coming sooner or later. Max heard the couch shift considerably and as she examined Hyram, he looked ready to be complicit in whatever shenanigans Steph and Chloe were about to commit to.

“Maybe we get business out of the way first, ladies?” Aubrey piped in with a scowl. Aubrey had changed a lot since last Spring, but this was the first since then that Max had seen her concerned grandma routine start up. It was part of her character, something that really made Aubrey memorable. Though, she wasn’t going to stay that way if she hung out with Chloe much longer. Chloe nodded her head at Aubrey and turned to Max, beckoning with her chin.

“Max, wanna join us back at the table?”

“Sure,” Max said fast, refocusing herself. The pain was random and felt as if it was travelling from one area of her head to the other. Distracting, but not too much a hindrance. Max rose from her seat, getting used to her footing.

“Need help?” Chloe offered, her concern audible. Max shook her head insistently, dragging the chair back to the table and sitting down closest to her. The bluenette sighed quietly and flipped her chair around to sit properly. Hyram had joined them too, taking the seat opposite of Max.

“Steph,” Max began. “This power I have is exhausting.” The auburn-haired woman just nodded, making a noise of hesitant acceptance as Max handed her the beanie across the table. Steph took it shyly, looking it over in a way that suggested she might still harbor doubts that this was real.

“So you time travel. Connor does what, exactly?”

“He controls the weather. Sort of,” clarified Aubrey.

“By sort of, she means he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Chloe added. Aubrey shrugged, apparently coming to an agreement with that statement.

“You’ve all known about this?” Steph asked, leaning against the edge of the table with her beanie in hand. Almost unanimously, everyone nodded their heads in affirmation, rather guiltily. Max grinned through the pain in her head, watching Steph’s almost dubious concern fade. Chloe refused to meet Steph’s eyes as she addressed the question.

“I hope you aren’t too pissed with us, Steph.”

“I should be, shouldn’t I?” Steph admitted thoughtfully.

“But you aren’t?” Max asked carefully, the atmosphere around the table uncertain of Steph’s emotions.

“I’m amazed!” she exclaimed. “And… confused. And uh, so many ideas running through my head!”

“Ideas.” Chloe laughed, rolling her eyes. “Max isn’t a comic book. She’ll tell you anything you wanna know.”

“Can you go back in time to stop—” Instantly, Max watched the beach blonde elbow the artist in her shoulder. Whatever Steph had meant to say was lost in the moment as Steph shot daggers at the other girl, grabbing hold of Aubrey’s arm. “What was that for?”

“For once I’m not the one!” Hyram laughed heartily.

The next hour consisted of a sort of ‘recap’ of their adventures, or at least that was what Steph kept referring to them as. They were anything but adventurous to Max. They started with the story of Max’s return to Arcadia Bay, how Max had survived the Dark Room and uncovered the secret murders that Nathan Prescott and Mark Jefferson had committed, she could tell that alone was overwhelming enough for Steph. Having to dredge up the reminder that the tornado which wiped out their town was somehow caused by saving Chloe’s life was an unsettling memory to re-explore. However, these were memories Max had to grapple with every single day.

Instead of fearing Max and her power, Steph was respectful about the explanation. She was clearly winded from the revelation, of course. Max and Chloe had basically admitted their hometown—friends, enemies, people that Steph had also grown up with—had died as a result of Max’s decision. In a way, there was a catharsis in saying it out loud to somebody other than Chloe. Aubrey and Hyram had once heard the story too, but she could read it on their faces just as well; they didn’t blame her, though that didn’t make these thoughts any less ugly.

Then came the end of the world portion of the story; Max’s massive three year time-leap back, those few weeks before the fated meeting with Connor and company. The artist had quite the imagination, barraging Max with a lot of questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. The others jumped in when necessary, adding their own input and spins on the story. By the end of it, instead of Steph it was Max who had been rendered confused at how precise and quick Steph could spit questions out. They had nearly finished discussing everything Max could conceivably think of when Steph hit her with another one. Raising a hand to her chin, the auburn-haired woman asked: 

“How is Rachel alive and involved in this?” Already having explained that she was somehow the “Oracle” according to the deceased Olhouser and Detective Southgate, Max wasn’t sure what else she could add.  _ Steph doesn’t seem to understand it’s not  _ that  _ Rachel _ . Max could tell Chloe was vexed at the question, her scrunched face and shut eyes indicative as much.

“She’s been leaving clues way before the incident at the gambling den,” Max said. “Southgate said as much. We need to find her… bio-mom, right?”

“Yeah, but I’d like to talk about this later,” Chloe said, which struck Max as odd.

“Sorry, Chloe,” Steph conceded, earning a glare from the bluenette.

“For what?” asked the punk. The auburn-haired woman looked to Max ruefully, then back to Chloe.

“I guess I forgot how sensitive this would be. She disappeared right before I had to move away.”

“How could _ I _ forget, Steph?” Chloe’s dull voice rose as did the twinge of sadness. The table had grown a tad unpleasant.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Steph finished, staring down at her lap. There was more to talk about for sure on the subject of this new Rachel, but just like Arcadia Bay, it was one of the two sensitive spots for the two girls. In time, they’d have to explain it all to Steph but Max wouldn’t blame Chloe for the hesitation.

“Don’t mention it,” Chloe said, nostrils flaring for a half-second. Max caught the bluenette side-eyeing her yet again, likely noticing that Max looked a tiny bit disheveled from Steph’s cross-examination.

“That’s just about everything,” said the time traveler, exhaling sharply. 

“Oh dang,” Steph said, blinking. “I figured I might have missed something. The world ending, time travelers fighting. This is nuts.”

“Welcome to our life,” Chloe remarked. 

“And then you roped us into it,” Hyram added.

“So what’s the game plan?” asked Steph, getting a collective groan from the rest of the table. She chuckled, leaning back in the chair. “Don’t be like that, guys. We got bad guys and good guys. We got stakes.”

“You’re taking this way too well,” Aubrey told her.

“You can’t expect everyone to faint or lay down once the cat’s outta the bag on this stuff,” Hyram replied casually. With a warm grin from Steph, he shrugged. “I mean, how many people have you told this to that held a straight face? Steph’s the champion!”

“Well first and foremost is pooling resources to find Connor,” Max interjected. “Then we can focus on Rachel’s mom.” The thought of having all eyes at the table on her was enough to make Max want to retreat despite the fact that they were all trusted friends. “You guys know why you’re here, right?”

“Because some Woman in Black wants to keep me safe from the bad guys?” Steph said quickly. “Holy shit, this makes even  _ more  _ sense now!”

“Slow down, Steph? You’re just grasping the concept,” Aubrey asked of the digital artist. Steph just returned a worried grimace instead of an agreeable smile. “I still can’t believe you’re excited over this.”

“I can’t imagine sitting around and doing nothing while our friend’s been kidnapped, maybe experimented on.”  _ Everyone at the table feels that way, Steph. I wish it was that easy to solve. _ Max admired the woman’s immediate commitment to action, though until they found a way to put her to good use, it would remain moral support.

“We’ll find him, Steph. That’s a promise.” Max saw the determination rise in Aubrey’s face, something she hadn’t quite seen in the woman for a few months. Connor had been Aubrey and Hyram’s friend first and foremost, so this meant more than just somebody with fantastical powers falling into the wrong hands. This was someone they had grown up with, almost like family.

_ Speaking of family _ , Max frowned. Chloe would have to leave for work very soon. Drawing out the tension, even using this meeting to mask it, wasn’t a good idea. Although the idea of leaving Steph mindfucked in the company of Aubrey and Hyram was slightly worrying, Max had to try and patch up her relationship. That was, until the joker on the couch spoke up.

“Have you guys considered that it wasn’t a kidnapping?” Hyram suggested, drawing the immediate ire of Aubrey. “Just think for a second. Given what you guys told me…. What if he’s going along with it?”

“Connor willingly helping Time Prick?” Aubrey scoffed. “Never.”

“Time Prick?” asked Steph, bringing Chloe to yet another deep chuckle. _ This is just gonna keep happening isn’t it?  _ Either way, Max couldn’t give any credence to the notion that Connor would voluntarily assist with the end of the world, but Hyram insisted.

“Aub. You know Connor ‘well as I do. What if he thinks he isn’t in any danger? Don’t you think we would’ve heard something by now if he was? The world hasn’t ended yet, unless this is all some nightmare.” 

“And how often did you try to reach out when he needed help, Hyram?” Aubrey shouted, sending a small dagger off the tip of her tongue at Hyram. Max gritted her teeth, matching eyes briefly with Chloe who had begun to squeeze her arms. It wasn’t like Aubrey to raise her voice like this, at least not when Max had been present.“No offense, but maybe you haven’t been paying attention.”

“My  _ best friend _ wouldn’t vanish without good reason,” Hyram insinuated, trying to speak a little bit louder than Aubrey had shouted. As soon as the beach blonde relaxed her brow and curled lip, Hyram lowered his volume . “So what I’m saying is, maybe he went along with this woman for a reason.” Chloe seemed reticent on the argument, though Max wondered if it was possible she was considering his suggestion. Along with Steph, the bluenette seemed to be thinking about it.

“Connor’s not always assertive,” Steph explained. “He’s not even sure of himself sometimes, but he tries to be honest.”

“You know him better than I thought you did,” Hyram said. Finally, Max heard the disrespectful laugh from the punk.

“I don’t believe this,” Chloe said under her breath. Max sighed, hoping everyone would relax soon. This wasn’t the argument to get heated over.

“No need to get pissy with me,” Hyram spoke loudly to the group around the table “I’m just saying, something feels really off about this.” 

“A hot lady seduced him into a false sense of security and then ran off with him?” Chloe was suddenly not having this.“This same woman has a tattoo of the organization that’s been after him and you mean to tell me he’s too stupid to figure this out?”

“Oh yeah,” Hyram said sarcastically, like he hadn’t considered how many holes he had in his argument. Suppressing her laughter, the beach blonde covered her mouth with a fist. Then again, Max understood that they knew Connor well and all but this seemed a stretch. “No, seriously. I’m not saying he’s being a dumbass. This might be totally part of his plan.”

“Or  _ Ren _ ’s,” Aubrey interjected.

“I don’t want to believe it, but it’s possible,” concluded Steph. “Ren’s kind of strange.”

“And according to the Detective, she could be an Artemis, too.” Max breathed. “Like us. Me.” The last thing Max wanted to think about was a confrontation with Ren, at least until they figured out what her trick was. Max wasn’t sure what to think about Ren, considering any power she might possess was in the realm of science fiction like her own. “That makes her dangerous enough.”

“Artemis, huh,” Steph muttered. “Just how many of you are there?”

“If this is true, I’m beating his ass,” Aubrey asserted. “After we rescue him.”

That was that, as the discussion quickly bounced back and forth on topics already touched. Steph was handling everything with a savvy demeanor for someone who only an hour before had merely suspected something off, but Max felt over-stimulated from so many questions. It was a lot easier getting the truth off of her chest, as it was one less loose end to worry about. Another text from Tobias begged the question of how long she could go before he somehow suspected she was far from normal too. She had to hope he would be safe from the knowledge, and likely better off without it.

Chloe had left to ‘unwind’ before work, which meant music and lounging on the bed before she departed. That left the shorter brunette with the three in the living room. Max asked them to excuse her for a bit, as it was time to initiate that conversation she had been putting off since last night. Just as Hyram began recounting a joke from Aubrey’s embarrassing high school career, Max peeled away from the living room and headed for the bedroom. Passing the bathroom, Max peered in and saw the mess from earlier when Chloe had rushed to get ready.  _ I’ll take care of it for her. It’s the least I can do _ . 

Once she opened the door, her girlfriend had already propped herself up with some pillows, earbuds in and rocking some air guitar. It was so cute and so Chloe, to see her self-entertainment in its purest form. This was a picture-worthy moment, but for once Max didn’t have her polaroid camera handy to capture the moment. 

“Hey, Chloe?” Max raised her voice, stirring the bluenette from her air guitar trance. “May I come in and talk?”

“Sure,” Chloe said. 

“Really?” asked Max, slowly putting her foot through the door. Chloe’s eyes narrowed and a small frown emerged, prompting Max to hurry.

“Right now, Max,” she ordered without removing her earbuds. The time traveler obliged by ambling past the bedroom door, sitting on the edge of the bed while the bluenette finally removed her earbuds and sat up straight. Chloe gave Max a straight-faced shrug, and then Max said what needed to be said a million times.

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” she said without any reluctance. Chloe slowly blinked, bobbing her head at the same pace.

“I know you are, Max,” replied the punk. “That doesn’t change anything, though.”

“What can we do to work through this?” Max asked her, watching Chloe’s brows flutter and her gaze narrow.

“That’s not your decision,” stated Chloe. That callout was enough to light a fire inside of her, but she knew where they stood. Max also knew Chloe was still right at the end of the day. She had to tread carefully.

“I came here to talk, not to fight,” Max declared steadily.

“How can I trust you not to go over my head again?” The shorter brunette sighed, racked with guilt.

“I understand why you feel that,” Max admitted sorrowfully. At that, the bluenette who had usually kept to Max’s side scooted even farther away from the bed, leaving the pillows alone and reached for her boots somewhere on the floor nearby.

“No. You really fucking don’t, Max,” spat Chloe. Max turned completely, seeing Chloe’s back to her. “I’m pretty fucking tired of this routine where you talk your way out of this.” Max grabbed the bed sheet, squeezing it with her fingers. Chloe was getting angrier and more distant as the conversation went on. Max had come in here to fix disaster, not accelerate it. 

“What do you mean,  _ this _ ?” Somehow, the brunette knew she deserved this. That didn’t mean she wanted to just let it happen. Max squeezed the sheets harder as Chloe slid her first boot on and began to methodically lace it up. The bluenette scoffed almost mockingly at Max’s ignorance.

“No more, Max. No more making me feel like an idiot. No more shrinking my confidence in you or myself. That ends now. I need a fucking break.”

“Please don’t,” Max suddenly begged. Chloe began to slide her next foot into the last boot, sighing hard.

“Sorry, Max. I won’t be coming home tonight.” All Max could do was stare wildly at the woman who was about to leave her, never having dealt with this sort of ultimatum. Max knew if Chloe walked out that door she would be in grave danger.. There was so much more at stake than just her relationship with Chloe if she decided to walk.  _ And this is all my fault. _ When Chloe looked up at the silent, suddenly complacent Max, the girls locked eyes. Chloe pulled away and returned her focus to the boots, lacing up her final shoe as she readied for work. 

“Chloe,” Max started, when Chloe waved a hand at her dismissively.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“When will you come back?” Max desperately asked, wanting to tear the sheets right off of the bed.

“I don’t know,” Chloe replied.

“Are you coming back?” Chloe hesitated, getting to her feet before saying anything.

“I really hope so.” The bluenette, now in full work uniform, marched for the bedroom exit. Max was on her feet in an instant and tried to move in front of Chloe. 

“Wait, Chloe. Please?” The taller woman brushed her aside, and then Max grabbed hold of her forearm. Chloe shook her head and ripped her arm away from Max’s hands. 

“God damn it Max!” shouted Chloe with fury. “You don’t get to put me wherever you want this time! Fucking stop!” 

“Is that what you think I do?” Max asked her, unable to stop the tears. 

“Think? No! Every fucking time we talk things out, you promise and promise and nothing ever changes. And I’m tired of being made a fool. I need time to think this all over.”

“I’m begging you, Chloe,” Max pleaded, her voice cracking only inches away from the taller woman. “Don’t leave things like this.” Max saw Chloe’s fists raise above her waist, the bluenette’s face staring down at the floor. Then, she raised her head, eyes closed with a quivered lip. 

“Max,” Chloe said.  
“Chloe,” Max replied, choked up.

“Ask yourself this: Who are you?”

“I know who I am,” Max’s voice rose for a moment. “I’m Max Caulfield. Why does this matter?”

“Which Max would that be, huh?” Chloe shot back, envenoming the shorter brunette. “Are you the Max that saved me from Arcadia Bay or one from a different reality, who expected to make things as _ she _ remembered them to be?”

It was as if somebody had sucked the oxygen right out of Max’s lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Max took a step back, clutching her chest. She wanted to touch Chloe, at least tell her how much she loved her, but she couldn’t do it. The accusation, or maybe the most realistic thing the woman had said to her in the last year, was too painful.

“If you aren’t my Max, the one who would’ve never done any of this to me, then what am I doing here?” Chloe said softly. “Just like Rachel, how can I be sure either of you are the real one?”

“Chloe, I…” Max tried, coughing on her own tears. “I remember it all. I remember tearing up that photograph, watching you die from a shot to the head… I have nightmares about them all the time! I’m as real as I can be. I can’t go without you.”

“Max,” Chloe said without turning to face her. “This is too much for me to handle right now. I’ve gotta go. I’ll keep in contact.” Without further adieu, Chloe grabbed the door knob and Max let her go. As the door flung open and Chloe walked into the hallway, Hyram could be seen down the hall from the couch, leaned in with a harrowed expression. Peering around the corner from the kitchen was also the beach blonde and the digital artist, all who had likely been unsuspecting witnesses to the shouting match that had just occurred. That was embarrassing enough, but then Chloe told Max goodbye and closed the bedroom door.

Max wanted to replay the conversation over and over, find some way to to correct what had happened. Could she have said something different? Raising her hand up, she started to feel for that door to a place between time and space. She could rewind this, find a way to fix it. She had to. 

_ My my, Max. She really laid into you. _

Max spun around and saw nobody in the room with her.  _ Want to hear your old teacher’s observation? _ The pervasive, almost vivid speech from the murderer lingered in her head. She frantically scanned her nightstand, and then the closed window. He was nowhere in sight.  _ Time Prick and you have quite a bit in common, with how you’ve built your own personal hell. Two time travelers fighting against one another still means that you both are changing the world’s very nature to your liking. _

“Jefferson? Where are you?” demanded Max, scanning the room for a nearby weapon. “You can’t hurt anyone anymore. I already beat you!”

_ You beat one of me, apparently. The real me died in a jail cell during a freak storm, didn’t I? Who’s _ really  _ real here, Max? I think you can find I was right about one thing. They’re fucking together in heaven right now. _

Max kept scanning the room, suddenly finding her neck itchy. Memories flooded in of her sprawled out on the ground, restrained by duct tape, as Mark Jefferson exploited her in a drugged, vulnerable state. She wanted to scream at the very thought of being seconds from death as he brought the needle up to her neck. This time however, David Madsen wasn’t there to save her. Jefferson _ was _ right, she was living in a hell of her own making. The time traveller sat down on the bed, unable to sit still. She was lightheaded, and then heard the door slam shut from across the apartment. The ghost of Jefferson had started to leave her alone as well. She buried her face in the sheets and began to cry. For the first time in a very long time, Max was alone and she wasn’t going to rewind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But did I show you love  
> In the author on my face  
> 'Cause you know you left a hollow  
> Where your body cut an alcove  
> Did I show you love  
> 'Cause the silence never stayed  
> It's a breach I'll never cover  
> It's a breach I'll never cover


End file.
